


Whipping Boy

by Moiraine



Category: Thor (2011)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Genderswap!Loki, M/M, Norse Mythology - Freeform, Punishment, Sibling Incest, Whipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-09-19
Updated: 2013-10-11
Packaged: 2017-10-23 20:56:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 88,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/254895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moiraine/pseuds/Moiraine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Odin must find a way to teach Thor humility, and he must find a way to teach Loki to be more than his brother’s shadow. The solution that comes to Odin is both fitting and terrible.</p><p>He will make Loki Thor’s whipping boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for [this prompt](http://norsekink.livejournal.com/3415.html?thread=7842647#t7842647).
> 
> I am very new this this fandom, and this story is the first thing I've written for it, so please bear with me if there are some bumps along the way. This is an AU work, so don't expect it to cleave to tightly to any of the canons. That being said, hopefully it will work for everyone.
> 
> I'd like to thank the lovely AccursedSpatula for beta'ing for me, and helping me keep all the mythology on track.
> 
> Enjoy!

When Odin storms Jotunheim, he intends to take nothing but the source of the frost giants’ power, so that never again would they be able to bring their wars and their terrors to the nine realms. But when he finds the tiny, almost still body of a jotun infant, wrapped in bloody rags and abandoned in a corner, he knows that he would be taking at least one more thing with him when he and his warriors cross the Bifrost.

The defeated jotun king watches as Odin gathers his spoils, and his eyes glitter cruelly when he sees the small bundle the Allfather holds close to his chest. “Fitting,” Laufey rasps, “that you should take _that_ with you. Surely the king of Asgard knows how to care for weakling princes.”

Odin sucks in a breath at the jotun king’s admission, but not at the slight to his own family. Having been abandoned in the temple, he suspects the frost giant child is the son of someone important. But that he was the son of the king of Jotunheim himself? No, he had not believed that even the jotnar were that cruel.

In response, he tucks the child more tightly against his body, wrapping him securely in his cloak. Surely not even the youngest frost giant would be cold on his home world, but this jotun child is unlike any he has ever seen, and he takes no chances. He will not risk the life of an innocent babe—even if it is the son of his enemy—and condemn it to death like the child’s father had.

At his command, the Bifrost opens and the forces of Asgard thunder back across the bridge, to bring word of their victory and deeds. As the warriors feast and drink to celebrate, Odin Allfather stands in his rooms, his queen, Frigga, by his side, and places the tiny jotun babe in the cradle beside his own infant son. The difference between the two is startling. Thor is all pink skin, chubby limbs and happy, laughing face. Golden hair curls atop his head and his bright, blue eyes look with keen interest at his cradle-mate as his arms and legs flail with barely contained energy.

In contrast, the jotun infant, whom Odin has decided to name Loki, has skin of a deep, dark blue. Silky black hair crowns his head and his red eyes seem more like dull chips of jasper than sparkling rubies. Loki is thin, too thin for a babe, and Odin wonders how long he lay on the temple floor. He is also silent and listless, beset by a lethargy that Odin can only hope will dissipate with food, time and affection.

As they watch, Thor rolls himself over to get a better look at Loki, and Odin cannot hide his smile. So young, and yet his son is already so strong. It bodes well for the future.

Thos reaches out, and by chance, one of his tiny hands lands and rests one of Loki’s equally tiny cheeks. Both Odin and Frigga gasp as Thor’s hand leaves a mark—startling pale—and it spreads, like milk spilled across a dark floor. The blue of Loki’s skin is chased away by the familiar tint of Aesir skin. Even his eyes change, dull red washed away by oddly bright green.

“He looks like one of us,” Frigga whispers, leaning down to stroke a now pale pink cheek.

“Aye,” Odin answers. “It may be that the boy has magic, of a sort. We shall have to watch closely.”

“You mean to keep him, then?”

Hearing the hopeful tone in her words, Odin looks at his wife, his beautiful, kind wife who has enough love in her heart to accept and raise another child alongside their own son.

“I cannot claim his as my own,” Odin says quietly. “Too many of my warriors saw me find him, heard Laufey’s words. And I’m not sure I can entrust his care to another. War with Jotunheim has caused our people much suffering, and though it shames me, I know there are those who would see Laufey’s son—innocent though he is—pay the price.

“No, Loki is a prince and shall be raised as one with our own son. He shall be a brother to Thor, and though the ties of blood do not bind them, the ties of family shall. And who knows? Perhaps there was a purpose in finding him that even we cannot see. Perhaps the Norns have given him a purpose we cannot yet know.”

Frigga’s arms wrap around him. “You are a good man, my love,” she murmurs, pressing her lips against his cheek just above the line of his beard, and in return he lays an arm across her shoulders and kisses the top of her head.

And there they stand, watching as their sons slowly drift off to sleep.

~*~

Their sons are four when the king and queen of Asgard must tell them the truth. They had not intended to do it so early, wanting to wait until the boys were older and could accept it more easily, but that was not to be. A warrior, displeased with one of Odin’s rulings, had lashed out, abusing Loki with words, insulting the “little blue monster” that the Allfather has disgraced his halls with.

There are distraught tears, and Odin and Frigga comfort their boys, holding them close and assuring them that they love them both, that they are brothers, no matter their heritage.

Privately, Odin and Frigga worry. This is not the first time one of their subjects has voiced such criticism, merely the first time their children heard it. They know that as time passes and the boys grow older and enter the public eye more, the criticism will only become louder and stronger. Eventually, there will come a day when they wouldn’t be there to protect their sons.

This thought troubles Odin, to know that no matter what he decrees, somehow, someone would find a way to hurt his boys. And though he would punish them for it, there would always be those who approved of putting the Loki in his “place” and seek another chance to do it.

These worries never fully leave Odin as he watches his sons grow. He struggles for days, weeks, months, to find a solution, some balance that will protect his more vulnerable child. Would that his people could see Loki for what he really is: a bright, inquisitive boy, whose mind will someday be as strong as Thor’s arms. A child who delights in the wonder of his world and the magic that sparks beneath his skin, just waiting for the day when it can bloom in full. A son who his parents are fiercely proud of and a brother who will always be loyal.

His people are _blind_.

It isn’t until his sons are six that he sees a glimmer of an idea. They’ve gotten themselves into trouble, which is to be expected of young boys. The crime is minor—sneaking into the armory to play. But the very recklessness of the act scares Odin. It is more than just the natural fear of Thor and Loki hurting themselves; it goes deeper, revealing a more complex problem that Odin has seen growing.

Thor and Loki are _good_ , in the way that only children can be. There is no malice or deceit in their hearts, but they are far from perfect. Thor is proud and confident. Overconfident, in fact. He does not think before acting, charging headlong, heedless of the danger he places himself and others in. Thor is the son of a king and a god, will be one in his own right someday, and he _knows_ it. He is spoiled, Odin reluctantly admits to himself, expecting that he shall always be forgiven after a talking to and a glib apology.

Odin must find a way to teach Thor humility.

Loki, for his part, seems more grounded. That he knows what his true heritage is undoubtedly plays a part in this, but he is little better than his brother. He follows Thor too willingly, too trusting that his brother will protect him, will get him out of the scrapes they find themselves entangled in. He allows his heart to overrule his mind in such matters.

Odin must find a way to teach Loki to be more than his brother’s shadow.

The solution that comes to Odin is both fitting and terrible.

There is a practice that has mostly fallen out of use. It was old when Odin was a boy, and now it is mostly unheard of. And though it makes Odin’s skin crawl to consider it, and the heavy weight of guilt to settle across his chest when he decides to do it, he understands that this may be the only way to satisfy all of the demands upon him.

He will make Loki Thor’s whipping boy.

Frigga rages when he speaks to her of it, railing against the injustice, the cruelty of it. Holding his wife close, Odin lets her weep, allowing her to feel the grief for both of them, the grief he cannot show to anyone save her. Sorrowfully, he acknowledges the truth of her words, and speaks to her of his own truths.

Thor is a godling prince, he says, and their people see him as such, revere him as such. With Loki as his brother, they unfairly hold Thor up as more than he is. Loki is already burdened by the public perception that he is the one responsible for their actions, yet to punish Thor would only make the people angry. He fears that in the long run it will only increase the resentment their people have for their youngest son.

But if they see Loki being punished, then perhaps their anger will be lessened. The “little blue monster,” the “jotun prince” will be punished as they believe he should be. They will have no cause to act against him. That they will never know the truth of the matter, will never believe it even if they are told, is their folly and loss.

Thor, he assures her, will learn that his actions have consequences. He loves Loki deeply, and cannot bear to see him hurt. While he shrugs off his own injuries as if they were of little consequence, the sight of Loki’s blood, or of a bruise marring his fair skin, distresses Thor greatly. Already, he places himself between Loki and the other children who, having learned from their parents, wish ill upon the smaller boy.

Once he knows that his actions will affect his little brother, he will learn wisdom and temperance. He will learn to protect Loki with forethought and planning, and not simply with the shield his body makes. This plan will succeed where their admonishments and chastisements have failed.

And Loki, he whispers fervently, will learn to assert his own will. Knowing the consequences, he will not blithely follow Thor hither and yon, stilling his tongue and putting aside his better judgment for the sake of one of his brother’s adventures. Already, they can see how quickly Loki’s mind works. When Thor assumes the throne, he will need an intelligent, trusted advisor by his side. And more importantly, one who will challenge his king when Thor sets upon an ill-advised course. Who better than the brother he loves more than life?

It will also show Loki how much trust and faith they have in him. Loki will know that he is the only one they believe is strong enough to bear this burden. And they will make sure he knows that this is not a condemnation of him, a punishment with no cause. With their every breath, he will know how very much his parents love him, and that service and sacrifice have their rewards.

Finally, Frigga stills in his arms, sagging heavily with the weight of their decision. She is terribly afraid that things will not happen as Odin believes, that Thor will see this as an excuse to do as he pleases, that Loki will feel persecuted, hated and unloved. She fears that the love her sons have for each other, deeper and truer than she has ever witnessed in siblings, will be twisted and broken by what they are about to do.

But even she cannot see another way. At least not one that addresses all of the concerns that surround them.

Gathering himself, Odin sends for Tyr. Once the other god arrives, he tells him what he has decided to do. He does not explain, does not dare show any hint of the indecision and doubt that still wrack him before others. Tyr does not question, and in his steady gaze, Odin sees the light of understanding that what he asks of him is not asked lightly. It will be Odin who commands this, but it will be Tyr who decides what the punishment is to be and then carries it out. In this way, Odin hopes to give the entire affair a measure of justice and impartiality, to ensure that all see no favoritism or undue harshness.

Squaring his shoulders, he summons Loki from the room where his two sons are cooling their heels, no doubt giggling and elbowing each other as they wait for their father to speak to them. Odin wants this to be a shock to Thor, hoping it will further drive his point home. But Loki does not deserve that, not when he is already receiving the poorer part of this. So Odin will explain to his younger son, as best he can, and hope that it is enough.

It does not lessen his guilt when the door opens and he hears Loki say quietly, “Father?”


	2. Chapter 2

Thor sat on the stone bench, idly swinging his legs back and forth while he waited for his father to finish with Loki before speaking to him. He still didn’t see what the big deal was. It wasn’t like they’d broken anything or gotten hurt. They just wanted to look around, maybe play with a few of the smaller practice weapons. After all, they were princes. Not only were they going to be training with the weapons soon enough, they had a right to go where they wanted.

Sighing heavily, he shot another look at the heavy door to the throne room, wondering what was taking so long. Father had never spoken to them apart like this. There was no need. If one of them was in trouble, then so was the other. And it was taking an awfully long time. What more was there to say than “I’m very disappointed in you. Don’t do that again.”?

The heavy door opened, and Thor looked up, expecting to see Loki slipping through the openly, looking properly chastised, but with the small, devious glint in his eye that said they’d soon be up to trouble again in no time, trouble that Thor was already anticipating, and had been since he first heard guards talking about the older, lesser used passages in the palace. They sounded _perfect_ for exploring.

But instead of Loki, it was Tyr stepping through the doors, looking most solemn and serious. “Your father will see you now,” he said gravely.

Frowning, Thor slipped off the bench and hurried through the doors, wondering why _Tyr_ had called for him and why the other god was following him inside. Why was he even there?

The throne room was fairly empty, holding only the usual compliment of guards as well as a few other members of court. His father sat in his throne up on the dais, and Loki stood down at the bottom, facing him. As Thor drew closer, Loki looked back over his shoulder at him, his face pinched and miserable, and Thor felt his excitement for what they would do once they were done here evaporating.

He stopped beside his brother, looking up at their father in confusion. The cold look on Odin’s face, the rigid lines beside his mouth and on his brow did nothing to reassure him and he licked his lips nervously.

“Father?” he asked, confused and nervous.

“Be quiet,” his father said sternly.

Odin’s hands tightened upon the arms of his throne, but he made no other move. Finally, after long, tense moments of silence, he spoke. “Thor,” he said slowly, “I am very disappointed in your actions today.”

Feeling suddenly relieved, Thor let out a quick sigh. Everything was the way it was supposed to be, and he had no doubt that soon he and Loki would be running amok again.

“Furthermore,” Odin continued, “I am troubled by your lack of respect for my orders. It is clear that nothing I say will make a difference to you. And I fear that your own blatant disregard for your own safety would render any physical punishment fruitless. So I have been forced to devise a punishment which will teach you the errors of your ways and to listen to your elders.”

“Father, I don’t—”

“Silence!” Odin snapped, and shocked, Thor did just that.

“You have many noble qualities, Thor, not the least of which is the love you hold for your brother. It is to this love that I am appealing, and hope you will see reason. From this day forth, whenever you ignore or defy an order or do something to recklessly endanger yourself or those around you, your brother will bear your punishment. It is my hope that through the suffering of one you hold dear, you will learn to master yourself.”

Eyes wide, Thor stared at his father in complete shock. He couldn’t. He _couldn’t_! Punishing Loki for things that he did wasn’t fair, not even a little!

“Father,” he began, desperate to make their father see reason, “you can’t. It’s not fair. It was _my_ idea to play in the armory, and—”

“I know.” Odin cut him off with a sharp hand gesture. “I am well aware of who it is that leads the two of you on these escapades.” His father didn’t blink as he stared down at him and gestured to Tyr.

Thor looked over, horrified, as Tyr came up next to Loki and murmured something to the boy. Loki hesitated, his hands balled into tiny fists before he hastily pulled his tunic off and bunched it in his hands. His brother was shaking and trembling, thin chest rising and falling quickly, and Thor felt sick. _This can’t be happening_ , he thought. It was a bluff, a test. Surely his father would relent any moment now and they’d be sent on their way, lesson learned.

One last time, he looked up at his father pleadingly. But Odin just pointed at Loki and said, “Watch and remember.”

Helpless, Thor turned back to his brother. Tyr stood behind Loki, and looked up to fix Thor with a steady gaze. The god of justice held a springy switch in his hands, and when he spoke, it was to Thor. “For disobeying your father and for endangering yourself and your brother: five lashes.”

The strokes were quick and precise. The snap of wood against flesh was loud in the long hall, and shocking. Loki cried out at the first touch of the lash, but then gritted his teeth as the rest fell. It was over quickly, for all that it felt like it took far too long for Tyr to finish.

The light in the hall glinted off the wetness in Loki’s eyes as he bit his lip and continued to tremble. Thor’s own vision wavered and he wanted to say something to his brother, but he didn’t know what.

“You are dismissed.” His father, still seated on his throne, spoke coldly down at Thor, and humiliated, ashamed and on the verge of tears, Thor turned and stumbled away, not even seeing the guard that opened the door for him.

He wandered the halls for hours, distressed, before finally making his way back to the room he shared with Loki. He poked his head in the door cautiously, but the room was empty. With a cry, he threw himself upon his bed, curling into a tight little ball and finally letting the hot tears that had been gathered in his eyes fall.

It wasn’t fair. Thor didn’t want to be switched himself, but that didn’t mean he wanted Loki to suffer instead of him. Now his brother was going to hate him because this was all Thor’s fault. He felt lost and afraid and angry, and his normal sources of comfort—his brother, his mother, his father—were cut off to him.

The bed dipped beside him, and he jerked up to see his mother sitting on the edge of the bed. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked gently.

Thor was supposed to big and brave, his father’s son. But when Frigga opened her arms, he swarmed into them with a cry, no more than distraught child. She held his sturdy little body against hers and rocked him as he sobbed and jerkily related what had happened in the throne room. His mother let him cry and when his tears had dried and his sobs faded into hiccups, she gently dried his cheeks and nose with a soft handkerchief.

“I know,” she murmured, “Your father and I discussed what was going to happen.”

Thor jerked away from her in shock. “You knew?!” he accused, outraged that their mother could allow such an injustice to happen. “How could you let him do that?! Don’t you love Loki?!”

His mother sucked in a sharp breath and Thor was old enough to see the hurt in her face. “Oh, _Thor_. Of course I love your brother. You know that.”

“Then how could you let him do that?!” he wailed.

Frigga shifted, moving so that she was sitting against the headboard without dislodging Thor from her arms. Gently, her fingers stroked through his head, rubbing in soothing circles. “The way you feel right now is the point your father was trying to make. He wants you to learn to think of others.”

“But I do! I love Loki,” he protested.

“I know you do, my son, but you need to learn to consider all the consequences of your actions. You’re young, a child yet. We don’t expect perfection. But we do expect you to think before doing something foolish. The next time you decide to do something like that, think of how you feel right now. All right?”

He nodded against her shoulder. He felt awful. “I will, I promise. I’ll never do something like that again.”

His mother sighed almost imperceptibly. “Never is a very long time. Just do your best. Now, come on. Let’s get you cleaned up for dinner.”

Thor held still while his mother gently washed his face and hands, found him a new tunic and combed his hair. As they walked to the dining hall, he clung to her hand, desperately afraid of what reaction he would get from Loki.

The dining room was thankfully, blessedly empty of everyone except their family. Thor climbed onto his seat quietly. Normally, he talked a lot during dinner, eager to share his exploits of the day. But tonight, he was silent, answering when he was asked a direct question, but otherwise just looked down at his plate, shooting glances at Loki.

Loki was quiet, too. And the few times Thor caught him looking over, his expression was blank. Thor didn’t know what that meant. He knew Loki was mad at him, but why wasn’t he saying something?

The awkward meal finally ended, and their mother sent them to bed. They were changed into sleep shirts and then tucked in by their mother’s loving, capable hands. She murmured to each of them as she did so, kissing their cheeks and foreheads before dimming the lights, wishing them good night and leaving.

Waiting for several minutes after her footsteps had faded, Thor propped himself up in bed. “Loki?” he called quietly. But there was no answer or movement from his brother’s bed.

“Loki?” he tried again. And again, there was no answer. Silently, he slid out from under his covers and padded over to the side of his brother’s bed. The marble floor was cold under his feet, and he shifted from foot to foot. “Loki?” he asked again, his voice quavering. What if his brother never spoke to him again? What if his brother never forgave him?

What if Loki didn’t want to be his brother anymore?

“Loki?” he asked once more, unable to keep his voice from breaking and he sniffed, feeling the tears pressing on the corner of his eyes.

~*~

It was the sniffle that finally convinced Loki to take pity on his brother and turn over to face him. Thor stood there, blue eyes teary and lower lip quivering. Loki wanted to be angry at his brother, but Thor was making it extremely difficult. He knew his brother hadn’t known what was going to happen, that he hadn’t wanted it to happen. He also knew that it wasn’t entirely Thor’s fault they had gotten into trouble. After all, it was his willing choice to go along with his brother’s plans.

Sighing, he held up his blankets and Thor immediately crawled under the covers with him.

Loki was somehow always surprised at how physical Thor was. His brother, only a little older but still much bigger and more solid, wrapped himself around Loki, hugging tightly. He wondered if it was because of their different heritages.

Squirming slightly so that Thor wasn’t crushing the breath out of him, Loki returned the embrace. For all that he _wanted_ to be mad at Thor he didn’t like _actually_ being mad at his brother. It felt wrong, like he was missing some important part of himself.

And if he couldn’t be mad at Thor, he wanted to be mad at his father instead. But that was hard, too. His punishment wasn’t fair. His father had even said so, and he’d seemed so sad and upset that Loki found his anger at him slipping away. How could he be angry at the person who’d cleared the hall so no one would see him cry? How could he be angry at the man who gathered him up in his arms and cuddled him close, had taken him back to his parents’ room where his mother had been waiting? When two sets of hands, one delicately soft and one hard and callused, had rubbed salve in the red lines on his back and wiped the tears from his face?

“I’m really sorry,” Thor said, voice raw and shaking. And Loki knew he was. There was no dishonestly, no deceit from his brother. Loki had never once known Thor to tell a lie, not even a simple one to get out of trouble.

Holding his brother, Loki thought that maybe their father had been right. Thor was taking the punishment very badly and Loki thought he was probably even more upset than Loki was. It was shocking. Never had he seen Thor so upset, never reduced to the point of tears.

“Loki?” Thor prodded him. “I’m really, _really_ sorry.”

Loki nodded. “I know.”

“Do you forgive me?”

“Yes. I forgive you.”

Thor gave a shuddering sigh and hugged Loki harder for a moment. “Can I sleep with you tonight?” he asked in a very small voice.

“Yes,” he answered, glad Thor had asked so he wouldn’t have to. “Always.”


	3. Chapter 3

It was a beautiful day in Asgard, coming on the heels of several days of inclement weather, and Thor and Loki were tired of being cooped up inside the palace. Frigga looked at her sons, who were nearly bursting out of their skins with pent up energy, and declared that she’d like to go on a picnic.

Thor and Loki raced to the stable, nearly tripping over themselves in excitement. Loki flew into the warm, horse-scented area a half step ahead of his brother and both boys tumbled into a convenient pile of hay in an empty stall to catch their breath, their chests heaving as they gasp in great lungfuls of air. Frigga followed awhile later, with far more patience and decorum, and by the time she did, the grooms had saddled her gentle white mare and the princes’ ponies.

Loki scrabbled into the saddle of his dapple gray pony while Thor did his best to vault into the saddle of his black one, imitating their father and his warriors. Biting his lip to hide his smile and doing his best not to laugh, Loki didn’t tell his brother that he was still many years short of achieving the effect he wished to. With everyone mounted, an extra horse laden with a hamper of food and blankets, and some guards holding back a discreet distance, they set off.

They rode for a while, Thor and Loki racing about as best they could on their stubby-legged ponies. The small animals were hardy, but hardly built for speed, so the princes couldn’t race them too far or for too long. Slowing their mounts to a walk so the ponies could rest, Thor complained loudly about the fact that he was denied a proper mount.

“I don’t see why I can’t have a real horse,” he whined, and Loki looked at his brother’s horse in amusement.

“He looks pretty real to me.”

Thor stuck his tongue out at him. “You know what I mean. We’re princes, Loki! We deserve fine, regal mounts, not fat little ponies who couldn’t outrun a turtle.”

Loki laughed. “You’re being stupid. Father says we’re not old enough for horses yet, so not matter how much you complain, we’re not getting horses.”

“ _We’re not old enough for horses yet_ ,” Thor mimicked grouchily. “Don’t you ever want to just have fun?”

That time it was Loki’s turn to stick his tongue out. “I do have fun.”

“Yeah, with books.” Thor rolled his eyes.

“Well, at least I can read.”

“Hey!” Thor cried, cheeks heating slightly. He knew he wasn’t stupid, far from it, but lessons were boring, and it was hardly his fault that whatever was outside happened to be more interesting than what their instructors were trying to teach them. It annoyed him, just a little bit, at how easy Loki found their lessons, how quickly he mastered them and won praise for it.

Well, he didn’t really care, Thor told himself. He was going to be a great warrior, better than Loki. He’d be tall and strong and march beside his father into battle and what good would Loki’s book do him then, huh?

“You hungry?”

Loki’s question made Thor blink, and then he grinned at his brother. “Yeah, come on. Let’s see if Mother wants to eat in that glen over there.”

And then both boys were racing back down the road, the slight friction between them gone, best friends once more.

~*~

When their stomachs were full, Thor napped. Loki did laugh at that, the way Thor could fall asleep between one moment and the next. He and Frigga went for a walk and talked while Thor slept, Frigga picking wildflowers and Loki carrying them back to the blanket for her. Loki watched quietly as Frigga braided them into a simple circlet, her nimble fingers effortlessly weaving the stems together so that they held. When she placed the crown of flowers on her head, and asked him how she looked, he laughed and kissed her cheek. His mother was beautiful, the most beautiful woman in Asgard, always gleaming and regal. But Loki loved when she did something silly like that, and to him, that was always when his mother was the prettiest.

“Do you want one?” she asked, laughing.

Shaking his head vigorously and rolling hit eyes, Loki said, “No, that’s for girls.” Glancing over at Thor—the blond oaf was _still_ asleep—a devious thought occurred to him. “Can I use the rest of the flowers?” he asked.

Frigga took a long look at him, noting the glint of mischief that he was knew was in his eyes, and nodded. Scrambling to his feet, Loki gathered up the flowers hurried over to where the ponies were hobbled and set to work.

Thor’s cry of anger, when he finally awoke to see so many wildflowers braided into his pony’s mane and tail that it looked as if they were made of blossoms, was priceless.

~*~

After Thor was fully roused, the boys dashed off to play. They ran their ponies across the meadow, and when the fat little things were tired, they wrestled in the grass, Thor’s heavier body winning if he managed to pin his brother, but Loki’s quickness kept that from happening too often.

After they were tired of wrestling, they wandered the meadow. It was a huge space, the ground rolling in long, gentle waves before turning into dark, evergreen forest at the edges. Thor eyed one of the edges before running over to see, and then grinned widely when his suspicions were confirmed.

“What is it?” Loki asked, running up beside him. “Oh,” he said as an identical grin spread across his face as he caught sight of the tall hill stretching down before them. The boys looked at each other, and then as one flung themselves to the ground in a flurry of limbs to roll down the long grassy slope. Over and over they rolled down the hill and climbed back up, until finally they lay in a tangled exhausted heap at the bottom.

Thor pushed himself up, swiping at the damp blond hair that clung to his red, sweat-stained face. “I’m hot,” he announced. “Let’s see if there’s a stream or a creek to cool off in.” And he set off into the woods.

Loki hung back, eyeing the tall tree and dark shadows that lay thick underneath them. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said nervously. “Mother—”

“—will never even know we’re gone. We’ll hurry and be back before she knows it.” When Loki still made no move to follow him, he sighed in frustration. “Come on, Loki! Stop being a baby!”

Frowning at the insult, Loki drew himself up. Thor was too quick to dismiss any hesitancy or fear on being babyish. Loki was _not_ a baby, and he wouldn’t give Thor the satisfaction of thinking he was. He shoved past Thor, bumping into his shoulder as he marched into the gloom. “Come on!” he snapped. “We must be quick.”

It was Thor’s turn to hesitate for a moment, caught off-guard by how other-worldly his brother looked, with his black hair blending into the darkness and his pale skin almost seeming to glow.

“Or are you afraid?” Loki taunted, and Thor was by his side in an instant.

“Hardly,” he scoffed, and dashed into the woods, Loki on his heels.

They were not quick.

Surprisingly, they did find a stream, promptly stripping off to cool down and splash each other. Once they were no longer hot and thirsty, they explored while they dried off, eventually pulling on their clothes in order to climb trees and scale rocks.

It was great fun, an exciting afternoon almost without equal. At least until Loki looked up and realized the already dim light had faded even more and it was difficult to see. Worried, he dropped from the tree limb he was perched on and looked around. Beside him, Thor landed a bit more heavily. “What is it?”

“It’s late,” Loki muttered. “And I don’t know which way we came from. Do you?”

“Oh, damn,” Thor whispered, hitting Loki back when his brother swatted his arm for swearing. He cast about, searching for their tracks. But they’d been playing all afternoon and even an expert track wouldn’t have been able to tell. The boys looked at each other uneasily.

“What do we do?” Thor finally asked quietly. As fearless as he normally was, when he was out of his depth, he turned to Loki and his quick mind to get them out of trouble.

“We stay here,” Loki replied after a moment’s thought.

“Stay here? Loki, we’re _lost_! We can’t stay here!”

“Why not? Afraid you’re going to get eaten by a bear or something? We _can_ stay here and we _will_!” Loki rounded on his brother. “This was _your_ idea! Go off if you want, but I’m staying here so they can find me.” And he folded himself to sit on a fallen tree. Thor stood for a moment, peering off into the trees before he flung himself down next to his brother.

With the two of them now silent, the woods were alive with the sound of birds and insects. Thor picked pieces of bark off the tree while Loki dug dirt out from under his fingernails. The minutes stretched on, the light fading completely and leaving the boys sitting in the dark.

“They’re going to find us,” Thor stated, false confidence prominent in his voice.

“Of course they’re going to find us,” Loki said caustically. “And if not, Heimdall can always tell them where we are. It might just…take awhile.”

They fell quiet again, and without thinking too much about it, Loki inched closer to Thor until their shoulders touched. After a moment, Thor gripped Loki’s hand in his, their palms both damp with the cold sweat of fear. What seemed like hours passed—though they knew it wasn’t really that long—until they finally heard distant voices calling.

“Thor! Loki!” Frigga’s voice carried through the dark, and both boys leapt to their feet, yelling for their mother. Branches and undergrowth cracked and snapped as the searchers grew closer, until finally Frigga’s much-beloved form resolved out of the darkness.

The boys ran to her, nearly tripping over their own feet, even as she dropped to her knees, heedless of the dirt, and held out her arms. As soon as they were in her grasp, she held them tightly, murmuring, “Oh, my babies,” as she kissed their cheeks. And not even Thor felt like protesting they weren’t babies anymore.

The guards, looking more than a little displeased, escorted them out of the woods, and both boys were shocked to see how far they’d gone. They ride back was tense, Frigga riding between them, continuously reaching out to touch them. Back at the palace, they were fed and bathed quickly, then bundled off to bed. And while their mother fussed over them, Odin merely looked in once and then left without a word.

Once they were alone, lying on their backs and staring into the darkness, Loki spoke.

“He’s going to have me whipped.”

Thor sat up. “He wouldn’t.

Loki snorted. “Did you see his face? He’s furious. Trust me, Thor, he’s going to whip me.”

Thor fell silent, not sure what he should say. His stomach twisted uneasily, hot anger at the unfairness of the situation, and shameful relief that he wouldn’t be the one being whipped warring within him. Finally, he managed, “It’s still not fair. We were lost. It’s not like we were trying to do something wrong.”

When he got no response, he thought Loki was either asleep or ignoring him, but then he heard his brother take a deep breath. “Did you see Mother’s gown?”

Thor’s stomach twisted again and he felt like retching. He knew exactly what Loki meant. In the forest, it had been too dark and they’d been too relieved to noticed, but when they were safely back in the palace, they’d been able to get a good look at Frigga.

Her dress, her beautiful dress, rich and stunning like everything she wore, had been torn and stained with dirt. It wasn’t her tangled hair, for they’d seen the wind sometimes blow her golden locks astray, or the smudges of dirt on her hands or face, for again, with two small sons it was bound to happen. It was the sight of that gown, dirtied and ripped beyond mending that had hit them like a blow. Thor couldn’t have given voice to why it was so wrong, only that it was. It was _wrong_ in a way that defied words, but was instantly understood by both him and Loki.

As soon as he saw that, standing in the gleaming, golden halls of the palace, before even their father had seen them, he knew they were in trouble. And he knew that Loki knew it, too.

~*~

Their father summoned them the next morning, and both boys stared at their toes while their father berated them. The words _foolish_ and _irresponsible_ were thrown about with abandon, and they both burned with shame at the absolute disappointment in their father’s tone. That they were forbidden from leaving the palace for the next month was accepted without even the thought of protest. They repeated their apologies and that they understood everything their father was saying until the words began to lose their meaning.

And then Tyr entered.

Loki just sighed quietly when the other god entered. But Thor…. Thor’s hands balled into fists and he glared at his father, as if the rage of an eight year old could somehow turn the Allfather from his course. Odin met his son’s gaze impassively until Thor dropped his eyes, and then turned to Loki.

Shortly after this had begun, Loki had noticed his father’s difficulty in meeting his gaze. The one real consolation Loki had was that despite his punishments being Odin's idea, his father was _never_ happy when it came to this. And he didn’t abuse it either. Loki wasn’t punished when Thor failed to study or when they got in the normal, everyday troubles that boys do. It was reserved for when they did something public, or so egregious that Odin felt he had no other choice.

Loki didn’t even particularly fear the lash. He wished it didn’t hurt, that the tears didn’t come, but he knew it could be much, much worse. And afterwards, his parents were always there to sooth his hurts, and Thor was always desperate to make it up to his little brother, giving Loki anything he thought might make him feel better.

No, what bothered Loki was the utter unfairness of the situation. He never felt like more of an outsider, like he didn’t belong, than in these moments. That was the one thing no amount of tenderness or care from his family could erase. He might look like them, but he knew under the surface he was _different_ , even if no one would speak about it. Loki knew his parents and his brother loved him, but sometimes…it might be easier if they didn’t.

Thinking like that made his head hurt, so he tried to stop. He shrugged out of his tunic and braced himself, waiting for Tyr to begin.

~*~

Later that night, after salve had been spread across his back by his mother, after dinner and double helpings of dessert—Thor had passed over his bowl of custard without a word when Loki eyed it—Odin called him.

“Loki, come with me.”

After shooting a quick glance at his mother, who smiled warmly and nodded her head at him, Loki slipped off his bench and padded after his father, who shortened his strides so that Loki could keep up. They walked for a long time in silence. And though he was burning with curiosity, Loki bit his tongue, waiting for his father to speak first.

Finally they came to a balcony that overlooked the city, and Odin leaned on the balustrade, looking down at the realm he ruled. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“About what?” Loki asked, feigning ignorance, but Odin just gave him a _look_ , his bright blue eye piercing Loki and holding him in place. Loki looked away and shrugged. “What’s there to talk about? You’re the king. And my father. It’s not like anything I say is going to change things.”

Odin turned, and looked down at him. “I would have the truth from you, my son.”

Clenching his jaw, Loki looked away. He didn’t want to talk about this. It wasn’t right for his father to make him give up his thoughts. Those were his own, and no one else’s.

“Loki….”

“It’s not fair!” he burst out, glaring up at his father. “It’s not fair and you know it!”

“I know.”

“I haven’t even done anything more wrong that Thor! Just because he’s your son—”

Odin moved then, crouching before Loki and putting his hands on Loki’s shoulders. They were heavy on Loki’s thin collarbones, and made him feel uncomfortably small.

“You are my son as well, Loki.”

“I’m not,” he challenged, daring Odin to contradict him. “Not really. Not in the way that counts.”

Odin lifted one gray brow, seeming almost amused. “And in what way is that? My blood might not run in your veins, Loki, but never forget that I _chose_ you as my son. That’s not even a claim Thor can make. So whenever you think that you’re not my son, remember that. Remember that your mother and I _wanted_ you. We love you, and no matter how odd or unfair things might seem, we would never change that.”

Loki blinked, stunned into silence. He’d never thought about that before, that at one time Odin had to make the choice and chose to _keep_ him. Biting his lip, he looked away. He was still mad, but there was a flutter of happiness in his chest.

His father gave him a few moments, standing back up and looking at the sky before asking, “How is your magic?”

Immediately, Loki frowned, glaring down at his thin fingers. Magic. He’d been beginning to learn about it, ever since his…abilities first surfaced. And he hated it. He wanted to be like his father and his brother, wielding weapons in glorious battle one day. But he was small, and he didn’t think his hands would ever be strong enough to use a sword and shield.

He shrugged. “It’s fine, I guess.”

“You guess?”

He looked sullenly at the floor. “I’d rather be like you,” he muttered. “Everyone looks at Thor and they can see how much you’re alike. I just…I want that, too.”

“Hmm,” Odin hummed softly in thought. “Do you now? And what would you say if I said that you’re more like me in some ways than even Thor?”

Loki narrowed his eyes, wondering if this was a trick. “How so?”

Odin grinned, and with an almost casual gesture with his hand, there was suddenly two Odins smiling down at him.

Loki yelped in surprise, took a quick step back and tripped over his own feet. The second Odin disappeared like mist while he father reached down to help him to his feet, brushing his clothes off though Loki doubted there was any dust on the floor to get on him in the first place. He wasn’t troubled by that though, or by the slight ache of his hip where it had struck the stone. All he had eyes for was the knowing glint in his father’s eyes.

“You can do magic,” he whispered. He’d known that on some level, had heard it talked about amongst the people of court. But he’d never seen it for himself, never seen the most powerful warrior in all of Asgard demonstrate the art that dark whispers said were only practiced by women and weaklings. All that mattered was that Odin Allfather, King of Asgard, Odin— _his father_ —had just shown _him_ magic, the same magic Loki felt running beneath his skin.

And he wanted to see more.

“I can,” Odin said easily, still smiling.

Loki’s mind was made up before the words even finished leaving his father’s lips.

“ _Show me_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the boys' thoughts on Frigga's clothes seem weird, it's something I've pulled from my own childhood, when a friend and I wandered off to go play in the woods without telling anyone. When we got back, it was to find out parents out looking for us, and as soon as I saw my father's dress pants and shoes caked with mud, I knew I was dead. There's no way to accurately describe that amount of dread upon realizing that you did wrong.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanks to my beta and myth!whore, AccursedSpatula. She lets me pick her brain for all these great details for me to work with.

Standing on the packed earth of the sparring grounds, Thor waited, swinging his practice sword to test the weight and sending frequent glances toward the edge of the grounds closest to the palace. He shifted from foot to foot as he did so, the only truly visibly sign of his nervousness.

There was no reason to worry like he was. He’d been in training now for more than two years. It was what he’d asked for on his tenth birthday, to finally be allowed to start weapons training and not just play at it with his friends using sticks. His parents had discussed it at length before finally acquiescing. Thor hadn’t been allowed to touch anything made of metal then, just practice weapons made of wood and wicker while he learned forms, but it had been a _start_ and he’d been thrilled. And while he was still only allowed to use practice weapons—and to be fair, that’s all anyone around him was allowed to use—his training had finally moved beyond that.

At first, his training had been overseen by Odin, his father personally instructing on the very basics of swordsmanship—like how to grip and swing a sword properly, how to hold and brace a shield correctly, how to fall without getting hurt when someone better on stronger overwhelmed him.

Thor had loved every moment of it, even the bruises and abrasions that that came with the training. During their sessions, his father had devoted all of his attention to him and him alone. Odin was king, and had a whole host of responsibilities that took up a great deal of his time. Thor had never felt neglected, but time alone with his father had always been a precious commodity. Those hours of training, of his father’s callused, battle-hardened hands covering his and teaching him…those were some of the best moments of his life.

His mother had also approved, commenting warmly and repeatedly that his training seemed to calm him and gave him focus. She approved of that more than she did with the actual skills he learned.

When Thor had turned twelve, his father had finally passed his instruction over to the arms masters who had time to oversee his education. Under their tutelage, he’d finally been able to begin sparring, and while his blood thrilled at the thought, he’d also been saddened that his time learning with his father had come to an end, though his father promised to keep an eye on him while he trained. And right now, some months after he’d begun coming to the grounds, was the first time Odin would see Thor actually fight.

It wouldn’t be a true fight, just an average sparring session with Fandral—a clever, light-hearted boy Thor had become fast friends with during the preceding months—but it would be a session observed by his _father_.

His palms were sweaty where they grasped the leather covered hilt of the sword and the strap of his shield.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Thor saw his father’s tall, familiar figure approach the edge of the sparring area. The others, trainers, students and other parents, gave quiet greetings and low-key gestures of respect, but made no particular fuss.

Thor grinned and turned to Fandral as their instructor called to them to take their places. The other boy smiled back, raised his wooden blade to return Thor’s salute and took his stance. Their instructor called out to them to begin and Thor darted forward to land his first blow across Fandral’s shield.

As far as sparring sessions went, Thor knew that what he and his friend were doing wasn’t all that exciting, even as his blood pounded through his veins and his limbs ached with exertion and wayward strikes. But the others called out encouragement and suggestions, cheering and groaning with a good blow or missed opportunity. The attention and adulation was enough to make Thor flush with pride, and when a short break was called to give the boys time to catch their breath, he looked over at his father. Odin smiled at him, beaming with pride, and Thor’s smile grew so wide his cheeks ached.

Then he noticed his brother standing next to his father and laughed. They’d both come to see him! Loki heard him and waved, smiling brightly at his brother, and Thor raised his sword in acknowledgement. He wished his mother was there, too, that his whole family could see him now. But for all that Odin said Frigga had been deadly enough with her own blade before she’d laid it aside to raise her sons—and Thor thought she probably still was—she disliked the dust and blood found in the sparring ring. That was all right. They could all tell her after what she’d missed.

The match was resumed and Thor threw himself into it, the desire to prove himself to his family coursing through him. There was a bit of back and forth between him and Fandral, but eventually the matched ended with Fandral on his back in the dirt and Thor panting over him. Their instructor declared him the winner and he ripped his padded leather helm off to beam across the grounds at his father and brother.

Odin and Loki clapped along with the others, and Loki pumped a fist in the air. Thor wanted to run over, but that wouldn’t be proper etiquette. Instead he reached down to help Fandral up, clasping his arm. Together, they walked over to clean and rack their practice weapons and armor. Thor looked back, to call to Odin and Loki that he’d be with them shortly, but the two had their heads together, not longer looking at him, but discussing something quietly and earnestly. As he watched, their father nodded at Loki, and then the two turned and began walking away.

They… _walked away._

Thor stared after them in disbelief. How could they do that to him? Not two minutes ago they’d been cheering for him and now they were leaving? Why? What could be so important that they had to leave _right now_?

The answer came in a bitter flash. _Magic_ , he thought darkly. That’s why his brother and father were leaving together now. They were going to be doing something with _magic_.

When their father had begun instructing Loki privately in the magical arts, Thor had tried very hard to understand and not be jealous of all the time Loki was tutored, longer even that Thor’s instruction had been. Magic was something women did, and as hard as it was to wrap his brain around the fact that his father did it—he could never see Odin as weak or womanly because of it, but it was still difficult to reconcile—it was harder still to understand why both he and Loki would revel in it so much.

Once, he’d felt bad for his brother. Loki was wiry and lean, not the best build for a warrior, and he’d shown little inclination for wanting to train with weapons the way Thor did—though he encouraged his brother and seemed happy that he was doing so well. Thor had dreamed of one day going into battle beside his brother, but as Loki invested himself further into his magic, he realized that would never be. It hurt, and he still didn’t understand why Loki and his parents weren’t more upset by it.

But now, to cast him off in favor of their…of their… _perversion_ …. Thor glowered at their retreating backs. Hadn’t Loki had enough time with their father? Shouldn’t he move on to being taught by others like Thor had? And why did Odin favor Loki more with so much of his time? Wasn’t Thor the firstborn son? Wasn’t he the one who would one day rule after his father? _He_ , more than anyone, should be getting that extra time with his father. Not Loki.

Well, fine then. He’d show his father that he didn’t need him in order to become the best warrior in the nine realms, and he’d show Loki that he didn’t care that their father favored him.

 _Fine_.

~*~

Loki twisted his fingers nervously behind his back, waiting for his father to come back into the large, empty hall. When they’d returned from watching Thor—Loki couldn’t believe how good his brother had gotten—Odin had told him to go change into some comfortable, lightweight clothes. Loki had selected a simple pair of pants and a tunic and toed his boots off beside the door. Now he stood, barefoot, waiting for his father to finish changing as well.

Today. His father had promised that _today_ , he’d finally, _finally_ show Loki how to shape-shift. Ever since he’d heard that Odin could, he begged to be taught the art. For all his magic, the ability to shift form was something innate. He’d changed from jotun to Aesir with no more than a touch, and was confident he could go back and forth with little trouble, though Odin has expressly forbidden even the attempt. Loki knew why. It stung to realize that he could be attacked for wearing his own skin, but he knew his father commanded it only out of love.

But this was something he could do with relatively little fear, something that if found out would earn him no more scorn or harm than any other magic he practiced. He supposed he should be more upset that others judged him so for something that was no more in his control than his height or intelligence, but as the years passed, he found he really didn’t care. That his parents and his brother took pride in his accomplishments was enough.

The heavy door swung open, startling him slightly, and then Odin entered, clad in slightly sturdier clothes than Loki. He nodded approvingly at his son.

“Good. Now, listen very carefully to me. What we are about to try here you are to _never_ attempt on your own. Not until you’ve perfected it and until I say so. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Father,” Loki agreed readily.

“I’ll hold you to that. And before we do anything else, you need to learn to words of the spell. Listen closely.”

Speaking slowly and carefully, spacing the words out so that it wasn’t a true spell, Odin recited the words of power. Loki repeated after him, first words and then phrases. Over and over his father made him repeat it, until Loki had grown weary and the words stopped having any meaning. The excitement he’d felt was long gone.

Finally, after an unknown amount of repetitions, Odin stopped him. “You’ve got it. I will use the spell first, and then you will copy me. If you begin and feel you’ve forgotten something, _do not finish casting_. This is paramount, Loki. Better to begin anew than risk having a spell go awry. You might not be able to fix the results.”

“Yes, sir,” Loki said quietly, imagining how badly a shape-shifting spell could go. He shuddered slightly, his mind providing too clear images of the possible results.

Odin nodded and stepped back.

“Father, wait!” Loki called out, something suddenly occurring to him. Odin raised an eyebrow in silent question. “How do we change back?”

With a rueful laugh, Odin shook his head. “How foolish of me. In my haste to show you, I forgot to explain that, though likely it would have come to you naturally. To change back, you simply hold the image of your own form in your head and… _will_ yourself back. It’s as simple as that.”

Loki frowned. “If we can simply will ourselves back, couldn’t we just will ourselves into the shape to begin with?”

His father opened his mouth to respond, and then stopped, brows furrowed. “Do not…do not attempt it, Loki. Not until you are much, much older.”

“So you think it _can_ be done?”

Again, his father hesitated. “For anyone else, I would say no. But…you’re different, Loki. There’s so much about your magic that I still do not understand. The working of magic without spells is possible, especially with lesser magics. And I’ve already seen you master some of that. Something like you suggest may be possible, but the risks…do not try. You are still far too young and your understanding and grasp of your magic still far too tenuous.”

Loki nodded. “All right.”

“Your word, Loki.”

“I give you my word, Father. I won’t try, not ‘til I’m older.”

Odin nodded. “That will have to do. Now watch.”

This time, Odin spoke the spell, and Loki watched, awed, as his father’s form wavered, seemed to shimmer, and then where he’d been stood a great eagle. Odin hopped backward slightly, getting his balance, his wings stretching out to help before he settled and looked at Loki.

For a moment, all Loki could do was stare. The eagle was nearly four feet tall and when he’d stretched his wings, Loki was willing to bet they measured more than ten feet across. His feathers were a glossy, dark brown-black, with lighter, golden colored plumage along the crest and flowing down his neck. Odin clicked his black-tipped beak impatiently, and Loki shook himself.

He took a deep breath, and then another before he felt ready to begin. Carefully, he spoke the spell, feeling the familiar tingle of magic as it raced along his body. His body grew warm and felt…almost as if it were melting as it reshaped itself. His vision grew blurred and then clouded over entirely as he felt himself falling. And then it was done, and Loki tried to figure out what had just happened.

He tried to move, and then squawked indignantly as he found himself entangled in his clothes. With a great deal of flailing of too-long, too-awkward wings and too-short, too-stiff legs, he managed to get himself free. Then he tried to stand like his father had and promptly fell over. He tried, but could not regain his feet, his new form feeling all wrong. Loki lay there on the cold marble floor, taking panting gasps of air and cried pathetic little sounds because actual tears of frustration were denied to him.

Odin’s talons clicked on the floor as he made his way over to Loki, a careful, dignified gait. When he reached Loki, he bent over, gently bumping Loki’s head with his own. Loki took some measure of reassurance that his father didn’t yet find it necessary to change back, and slowly his panic and frustration subsided. When he was calm and his breathing normal, Odin gently helped him up, lending his head and a partially extended wing for support.

At last, he stood on his own—if a bit waveringly—and took stock of his new form. The first thing he noticed was that he could _see_. It stole his breath for a moment, how clear and focus everything was, how much detail he could see. He blinked, and startled slightly at the clear eyelid that slid over his eye. The second thing he noticed was that everything looked…wrong.

He had no other way to explain it. The colors of the room simply weren’t right. Loki closed his eyes, shaking his head slightly and then stumbling as the motion threw him off balance. He extended his wings and hopped to the side until his legs felt steady again. Equilibrium regained, he opened his eyes and tried to get used to his new vision. It was odd, but not an impediment.

Next, he looked at himself. Looking back and forth between him and his father, he noted the difference in size. His eagle form was perhaps a bit more than half his father’s size. But that made sense. He could also see their feathers were similar in color, though Loki appeared to have patches of white scattered over him, and a band of white across his tail feathers. He went to frown, realized he couldn’t, and clicked his beak in irritation, wondering if the color differences were because he’d copied the form imperfectly or if there was another reason.

After deciding there wasn’t much more he could learn by looking, he carefully extended his wings to their full reach. It was similar to reaching out with his arms, but the joints were different, the flex reaching deeper, pulling on the muscles of his narrow chest. There was a sudden, deep, instinctual urge to push with his stubby legs and claw his wings at the air until it is to the only thing holding him aloft, to float on a pillar of warm air, wings locked, tilted at just the right angle so that he could soar for _hours_ and for _miles_ and—

Odin’s wing struck him, a quick sharp blow, and as he moved in front of Loki, Loki realized he was crouching, ducking into a pose he’d seen countless times from birds of prey.

He’d been about to try to _fly_.

The realization staggered him as he stared up at his father, just noticing, this close, that his father’s right eye was gone, just as it was in his normal form, the lids sealed shut over the empty socket.

His father shook his head, his single eye blazing, and Loki instantly ducked his head in apology. How odd that without words he was quickly learning to read body language. There was no anger in his father’s stance, but the way he loomed over Loki’s smaller form was enough to convey that should Loki make the attempt again, Odin would stop him.

Odin stepped away from him, putting space between them, and swept his wings out and then back and forth a few times. The gusts of air ruffled Loki’s feathers and he resisted the impulse to preen them. Then his father half-folded his wings and looked at Loki, waiting. Cautiously, wary of triggering another episode where he lost himself to instinct, Loki repeated the actions, feeling the push and pull of bone and muscle. He could feel how easy it would be to go just a little faster, to put a bit more power behind the strokes, but he fought against the urge.

Again and again they practiced, Loki graduating to taking short hops, his wings propelling him for a few feet. It was awkward, and the first few times he landed and fell with little grace. But as he became more comfortable in his new body, it grew easier, and he and his father eventually glided back and forth across the hall.

Confident in his newfound abilities, Loki looked at the balcony that dominated the outward facing wall and then back at his father, unspoken question and plea writ in every line of his body. His father looked at him unblinkingly for a long time before hopping on the balustrade, and then spent an equally long time looking out. Finally, he flapped a wing in a “come here” gesture and Loki swiftly joined him, feeling the rightness of sitting on a perch, his talons securely gripping the stone.

Odin fixed him with a keen stare. _Watch_. Loki nodded, and watched like a…hawk, privately laughing at his own witticism. His father flexed his wings, crouched and jumped from the railing, wings snapping open to their full extension. Enraptured, Loki committed as much as he could to memory, the tilt of his father’s wings, how long he held them open to soar before beating them to gain more altitude.

Then, gathering himself, he let that instinct well up inside him, and threw himself off the balustrade after his father.

There was a moment of absolute, heart-stopping terror as he fell. He had no breath to scream, and his mind went blank as he was convinced he was going to plummet until he smashed into the flagstones below in a bloody heap.

And then his wings snapped open and the air—unseen, nebulous, _glorious_ thing that it was—caught them and suddenly he was _soaring._

He wanted to howl with laughter at the fleeing, the indescribable joy of his flight, of the wind whistling in his ears and of the sheer, wild freedom of it. Instead, he screamed his ecstasy into the sky, hearing the call echo off the tall towers. Below him, Odin echoed his cry, and together they circled, climbing up on thermal updrafts and then folding their wings to plummet…only to do it all over again.

By the time the sun began to touch the horizon and his father angled for the balcony, Loki felt as if he’d lived his entire life like this, suspended in empty air with the ground rolling out below him and the brilliant blue of the sky above. With some reluctance, he followed his father, already mourning the loss of his flight. But he had no doubt that Odin could force him to go back, whether he willed it or not. So instead he followed his father inside, touching down lightly on the floor beside Odin.

His father changed back first, his form shimmering and wavering until he stood once more in his own skin. Loki waited for him to take a few steps back and then thought of himself, of his regular body, with its two legs and two arms, pale skin and head of black hair. He held the image firmly in his mind and then… _opened_ himself up to his magic, willing his shape to change back.

It was as easy as changing in the first place had been, and this time he was prepared for the odd sensation. He did stumble when he finished, his legs feeling too long. But it was easier to settle back into that shape than transforming into the eagle had been.

And then he quite suddenly realized he was stark naked, his clothes in a pile some feet away.

He yelped and dropped into a crouch, covering himself with his hands and his cheeks burning bright with embarrassment. His father chuckled and grabbed his clothes for him, dropping them next to Loki and turning his back so his younger son could scramble into his clothes.

“In time,” Odin said without turning around, “you’ll learn to take your clothes with you.”

Loki muttered under his breath and then cleared his throat to indicate he was done. His father turned around, a wide, wry grin creasing his face. “You did well. I’m very proud, Loki.”

“Can we do it again?” Loki asked excitedly.

His father laughed. “Of course, when I have time.”

Loki threw his arms around his father. “ _Thank you_.”

“You’re welcome,” Odin murmured, ruffling his hair.

Loki stepped back...and almost collapsed as a wave of tiredness came over him. His father caught him, steadying him as he wobbled on his feet. “What…?” he began.

With a soft chuckle, his father shook his head. “I think we overdid it. You exerted yourself too much today, both with your magic and your flying. Come on, to bed with you. I’ll explain to your mother and have a tray from dinner sent to your room if you’re hungry later.”

“But I wanna tell Thor,” he muttered sleepily.

“Tomorrow will be soon enough. Come.”

Loki nodded and his father led him back to his room, one arm wrapped solidly around his shoulders to prevent him from falling. Once in his room, Loki fell into bed, not even bothering to change out of his clothes. He was vaguely aware of his father covering him with a light blanket, and then extinguishing all the lights save a small lamp on the desk. Loki feel asleep between one moment and the next, already looking forward to sharing this with Thor.

~*~

Loki slept through the night, not waking until after breakfast the next morning. He was disappointed to learn that Thor had already gone off to his training, but consoled himself that they would see each other later during lessons.

The wait was agonizing, and Loki was waiting for Thor when he cleaned up and ate lunch.

“Thor!” he said brightly, dropping into a seat next to his brother. “You’ll never guess what I did yesterday!”

His brother looked at him with an oddly inscrutable expression. “No, I don’t suppose I will,” he said blandly.

Loki’s joy faltered slightly at the disinterest his brother showed, but he gathered himself and pushed on. “Well, Father took me up to one of the halls and showed me how to—”

“Loki,” Thor interrupted, pushing his plate away from him, “I’m sure you had fun learning your little tricks, but while you were playing, some of us were busy learning how to defend our home. Now, excuse me, I’m late.”

In disbelief, Loki stared after Thor, bewildered. What had just happened? That wasn’t how Thor was supposed to react. Thor was supposed to be _excited_ for him, the same way he always was when Loki mastered a new skill. Loki’s hands balled into fists and he blinked rapidly at the _hurt_ that welled up at Thor’s attitude and insult. __

Maybe…maybe Thor had just had a bad morning. His brother could be short-tempered and sometimes took it out on those around him. But he always realized his error later and apologized. Loki fought against the instinct to hurt back and told himself that Thor would say he was sorry, probably tomorrow when his bad mood wore off.

~*~

But Thor did not apologize the next day, or the day after. Loki waited in vain as days passed with no sign from Thor that he was sorry. In fact, his brother seemed to grow worse in his behavior, barely speaking to Loki unless he had to. Loki was baffled, wondering what he had done to anger his brother—because obviously something had happened—but he couldn’t figure out what. And any attempt to ask his brother simply led to Thor glaring at him and walking away with a word.

A week passed, culminating in a formal dinner with many nobles, and Loki found himself staring across the table at Thor in shock, in complete disbelief that he’d just heard his brother call one of the nobles a fat pig.

Odin sputtered apologies, glaring daggers at his oldest son, promising that there would correction for Thor’s boorish behavior. Honor demanded that punishment not wait, and Tyr was summoned as both boys were led from the hall. Loki continued to stare at Thor, an unknown feeling constricting in his chest as Thor smiled nastily at him. It banded around his ribs, and shortened his breath as he struggled to put a name to what he was feeling.

_Betrayal._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things to know:
> 
> Odin and Loki - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Golden_eagle
> 
> Eagles possess amazing eyesight, about four to five times more powerful than that of a human with perfect eyesight, and have two focus spots in their eyes. They can spot a prey animal from 1,000 feet in the air, over an area of three miles. They also have an additional color cone in their eyes, four to a human's three, so they see a wider spectrum of color as well as ultraviolet. I tried to incorporate that when I had Loki describe his vision, but as I have no idea what it actually looks like...we'll pretend it's what he says.
> 
> In myth, Loki is a shape-shifter, though he never actually transforms into a bird, with the exception of the one time he borrowed Freya's falcon form. For the purposes of this story, I'm granting him the ability to shape-shift into any form of his choosing, and being that he's learning from Odin, who does shape-shift into eagles, he learns this now.
> 
> In this chapter, Frigga is depicted as being a former shieldmaiden. This deviates from myth—where she wasn't one—and is my nod to what we see of her in the movie. Traditionally, women gave up carrying weapons when they got married, which is what I've portrayed here.
> 
> And in case you were unaware, teenage boys are dicks.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully, this should get us into everyone's heads a bit more, and we can see what each of the boys are going through.
> 
> Beta'ed, as always, by the incomparable AccursedSpatula.

Odin watches his sons fracture and it breaks his heart. How? How has it come to this?

They have gone from being the best of friends to bitter enemies in what seems like the space of a heartbeat. No, that's not quite true. Thor treats Loki as an enemy; Loki is just bewildered and hurt.

It is a terrible feeling to watch one’s children suffer, and to neither know the reason for their pain nor the way to soothe it.

Thor is so _angry_ these days, and it baffles Odin. He cannot ever remember a time in his own youth when he harbored such rage, and he is at a loss as how to deal with it. Thor will not speak to him of it, and for all his power, Odin cannot even compel his son to tell the truth. Frigga is also as powerless, the time when her sons would tell her everything long past.

And Loki.... The only time he ever sees Loki smile these days is during their lessons, and he nudges and arranges his schedule to give his youngest son as much of that precious time as he can. He doesn't know what else to do. For like Thor, Loki will not speak to him either, though Odin can clearly see the pain he carries, has witnessed the hurt and fury he holds tightly inside whenever Thor goads him.

Odin has never felt so powerless, and he does not like the feeling. He attempts to order them to stop once, and the private war his sons are waging only grows worse. His only choice now is let them sort it out between them, though he has made it expressly clear to Thor that such abuse of his power over Loki _will not_ be tolerated. The first incident with Thor’s insult of the noble, months ago now, had seemed a fluke, until another incident a couple months later. After the third, Odin confined Thor to the palace for two weeks. The loss of his precious training lessons had seemed to curb that ugliness, but now Odin finds himself second guessing every instance of trouble. Is it simply a normal, boyhood bit of trouble or an attempt to get back at Loki?

His interference is _not_ helping, so he must step back and allow his sons to figure this out. He only hopes that there is a relationship between them left to salvage when they’re done.

~*~

The loss of Thor probably wouldn’t have been so terrible if Loki had other friends.

After yet another day surrounded by his books, practicing bits of magic and catching glimpses of his brother from afar, Loki fully admitted that hard truth. Watching Thor with Fandral and Volstagg, Sif and Hogun—the collection of loyal friends and companions he’d acquired after his training begun in earnest—only emphasized Loki’s solitude and isolation. It wasn’t that he didn’t want friends; he did, desperately. He wanted to talk and laugh and simply have fun with others, but he had no one to do it with.

Making friends had never been easy for him, and that problem was compounded by other children fearing his friendship because of the disapproval of their families. To be friends with the heir to the throne was one thing, to be friends with a lesser prince, one who was unnatural in his talent for magic, who wasn’t even _Aesir_ , well, that was another. When Thor had been with him, it had been okay. But once his brother abandoned him, Loki quickly realized none of those children had ever been his friend. The scant few who may have sought him out for his own merits quickly disappeared when it became apparent Loki no longer held the crown prince’s favor.

The loneliness was crippling, and many nights Loki fell into bed anguished and exhausted from the strain of not letting anyone see how much it bothered him. But he refused to let the tears that burned in his eyes fall. He would not let anyone do this to him, least of all Thor. He wouldn’t shame himself and prove the whispers about him true by allowing himself to cry.

Loki would have liked friends, but he didn’t _need_ them.

Instead, he channeled his frustration into his magic, and he knew even his parents, who understood how extensive his talents were, were shocked to see how quickly he mastered things. He practiced his shape-shifting, and spent a great deal of his free time in forms other than his own. He didn’t feel quite so alone when he was winging his way through the skies of Asgard, or slinking through the palace halls as a sleek, silent-footed cat.

Odin and Frigga worried over him, and while Loki appreciated it, he had trouble believing they still didn’t realize what the problem was.

Saying Loki was smart was like saying the sun was bright or that the ocean was salty. Except one didn’t realize how blazing and hot the sun was until they’d burned themselves, or how salty and deep the ocean was until they’d almost drowned. Loki was fiercely intelligent, and he’d realized fairly quickly what Thor’s problem was. It had been no more than a passing glance at Thor’s face while Odin was talking about something he’d taught Loki. But from that one chance look, Loki had realized incredulously that Thor was _jealous_.

The fool was jealous, and maybe angry, about the time their father spent with Loki. The very idea of it had filled Loki with hysterical mirth at first. It was ludicrous, ridiculous, unbelievable…right up until Thor had betrayed him.

That…that _hurt_. Not the whipping itself, but the delight on his brother’s face. Even now, months later, Loki’s stomach still churned when he thought about it. To have it come from Thor, the one person he trusted above all others…he still couldn’t understand it.

He’d quickly realized how bad things could get, so he’d reached out, made an attempt to make peace with his brother before things could get worse. And Thor had thrown it in his face. Loki had reacted with incandescent fury. He’d vowed to himself that _that_ would be the _last_ time he ever went to Thor, the last time, the last time he would lower himself to salvage his arrogant brother’s pride. If this was to be mended, it would be _Thor_ who came to _him. Thor_ who apologized and waited to see if Loki deigned to accept it. Never again would Loki place his brother’s needs before his own.

Instead he bent his efforts in the opposite direction, making a show of crowing and preening with his accomplishments, of timing things _just so_ , so that Thor was often present to hear their parents compliment him. And then he ignored Thor, brushing off Thor’s own achievements as mundane because, honestly, how special were one fledgling warrior’s actions in an entire society built on combat and the glory it brought?

His indifference annoyed Thor, and on the occasions when they were practically ordered to spend time together, Thor made the entire experience so unbearable that Loki chose to leave, chose to refuse the reluctant invitations when they were proffered. It gave Thor the excuse to look innocent and wide-eyed and claim that he’d _tried_ , but Loki didn’t care. Better alone and miserable that forced to be in Thor’s company and even more miserable.

But he still missed the brother he used to have.

~*~

Time didn’t help anything.

The household existed in a constant state of low level tension. Weeks passed without Loki and Thor exchanging words and those were considered good periods. The bad periods saw Thor and Loki screaming at each other and more than a few physical altercations, leaving both nursing wounded prides and bloodied knuckles.

In public, they all pasted on happy smiles and pretended things were fine, but in the privacy of the palace there was no sign of the happy, tight-knit family that used to dwell within its walls. Occasionally, mutual guilt over the strife they were causing their parents—especially when confronted with Frigga tearfully asking what she had done wrong to make them behave the way they were—Thor and Loki would put aside their animosity to be civil to one another.

But it never lasted.

Loki’s fourteenth birthday was particularly bad. It had long been custom for the family to celebrate privately with a particularly fine dinner, something just for the four of them to enjoy aside from the more public celebration. Odin and Frigga had hoped that for one night their sons could set their differences aside and just be pleasant. Loki was ready to make the effort, for his parents if nothing else.

Thor didn’t show up.

The meal, featuring Loki’s favorites, had grown cold while the guards scoured the palace and then the city for the wayward prince. Frigga tried coaxing Loki to eat something, but he’d refused, mouth thin and eyes bright with anger. When Thor had finally been dragged back, having been out wandering with his friends, there had been the tiniest hint of fear in his eyes as he told Odin that he’d simply forgotten.

Loki stood up, shoving his chair back violently and stalked from the hall in silence. Once back in his rooms, he gave into the violent rage swirling inside him and set about destroying every gift Thor had ever given him. Even after he was done, the gifts reduced to shattered piles of slag, dusty mounds of ash or pools of molten metal, he found he didn’t regret it.

Thor spent the next month unable to leave the family quarters and he and Loki didn’t exchange a single word the entire time.

~*~

Around Thor, the palace hummed with quiet activity. It was a beautiful day, and while Thor awaited the arrival of his friends so they could go riding, the servants bustled to and fro, throwing open windows to let the fresh air in and carrying linens and rugs outside to air them out. It was comforting, to just sit and watch people go about their lives and not have to worry about anything more complicated than that.

A blur of dark color at the edge of his vision made him turn and look. His brother was striding down the corridor, reading a piece of paper in his hand. Over the last year, he’d taken to wearing clothes that were darker and darker, until Thor couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Loki in anything that wasn’t black or a green so dark it very nearly was. Combined with the way he’d grown, all long, awkward limbs, Thor often thought—uncomplimentary so—that his brother resembled a large black heron flapping about the palace.

As if called by Thor’s thoughts, Loki looked up from his paper, green eyes instantly and unerringly seeking out Thor. Loki’s expression didn’t change, didn’t twist with anger or disgust or contempt. He just looked at Thor blankly, as if Thor wasn’t even worth the effort to summon up a single emotion. Then he glanced back down at his paper, dismissing Thor like he would an insect or a piece of dust on his clothes.

Thor felt fury rise in him. How _dare_ Loki just ignore him like that? He wasn’t some servant or some commoner to be disregarded so easily!

And just as quickly as the anger came, it bled away. It was so damn hard to hold onto it now, and while he could, and still often did, it was exhausting, leaving him feeling worn down and old.

He was tired of this. He just wanted things to go back to being the way they were, when he and Loki hadn’t been at each other’s throats constantly. But Thor didn’t know how to fix it. It wasn’t like he could just go up Loki and…ask for things to stop. And he _wasn’t_ going to apologize. Loki was hardly blameless in this whole affair, and Thor refused to give his brother one more reason to feel superior, to hold how much more their parents valued him over Thor’s head.

That was a big part of why Thor refused to be the one to ask for a truce. Each time he thought that maybe, just _maybe_ he could bring himself to do it, Odin and Frigga would show their favoritism _again_. Whether it was a present or a trip somewhere or even just the gift of their time, each occasion would have Thor remembering with blind fury that first time their father had shown he loved Loki better. He could still taste the shame, the humiliation, at having everyone see Odin walk off with Loki and leave him behind on the day that was supposed to be _Thor’s_ moment to prove himself before his father.

He would never understand how they could have done that to him. Didn’t they know how everyone would see that? The king of Asgard choosing his second son, his _weaker_ son, a son not even of his _blood_ over the one who would follow his father to the throne. They didn’t have to listen to the muttered jibes about it, the insults and insinuations that Thor couldn’t measure up to a weakling magic user.

And _that_ was the reason why Thor refused to let go, why he kept up his public repudiation of his brother. If he simply relented now, everyone would wonder why and would begin to question him. They would say he lacked resolve, that he couldn’t hold firm to his decisions. How could he explain that he missed his brother, that not being able to have him by his side was like missing a limb, or like having a hole in him that no number of friends or sycophants could fill? He couldn’t. He would be mocked incessantly for such womanish fears and feelings, and Thor was _not_ willing to risk the loss of his friends and companions over Loki.

“Thor!”

He was pulled from his dark musings by Sif’s bright voice, and he looked up, smoothing his features into a smile. The girl jogged toward him, her bright braid bouncing along her back. He stood as she approached, giving her a small wave and she grinned as she stopped before him.

“The others are on the way. They should be here in a few minutes.”

“That’s fine. How’s your arm today?”

Sif made a face, rubbing her upper left arm gingerly. Fandral had landed a solid blow yesterday and it had pained her for the rest of practice. “It’s fine. Much better today, though I’ll have some bruises for awhile.”

“Good,” Thor grinned. “Remember that when I refuse to go easy on you.”

She made a face. “As if I’d let you.”

He laughed and gestured for her to have a seat on the bench with him. They sat quietly, neither feeling the need to talk. But after a few moments, Sif cleared her throat, and Thor looked over at her.

“I, um, passed Loki on my way over. Do you…think he might want to join us?”

Thor’s face twisted. “No,” he said shortly.

Sif bit her lip. “Are you sure? I mean, I never see the two of you together anymore, and he seems so _lonely_. I just thought—”

“No!” Thor snapped, more sharply this time. If Loki was lonely, that was his own damn fault, and Thor would not be guilted into spending time with him because of it. He stood abruptly. “I see the others. Let’s go.”

Sif opened her mouth to respond, but then closed it and shook her head. “I was just asking,” she muttered, and Thor felt a pang of guilt that he’d taken out his anger on her.

“Forget it,” he said. “Loki is…difficult, and often vexing. He shouldn’t cause strife between me and my friends. Come, let’s forget this unpleasantness and enjoy ourselves, without the pall my brother’s presence would surely cast over our day.”

With a small shrug, Sif inclined her head to him and followed as Volstagg, Fandral and Hogun joined them.


	6. Chapter 6

Thor was bored.

No, he thought. Not just him. He and all of his friends were bored. They lounged in one of the palaces many rooms, sprawled across chairs and couches. They’d already sparred earlier that day, explored the palace and played a few games. Nothing served to alleviate their restlessness.

Thor was almost ready to just call it a night when Fandral leaped to his feet. “Friends!” he cried. “I have it!”

Everyone turned their attention on him and he beamed. “While your generous hospitality is always welcome, Thor, I find myself wondering why we are _here_ and not out in the city.”

Thor perked up. “What do you suggest?”

“Let us go out and have some fun! There are taverns aplenty who would welcome our patronage and a night of carouse seems exactly like what we need.”

“Hmm,” Volstagg rumbled. “A fine idea, my friend. I do find myself a bit thirsty.”

Grinning, Thor got to his feet. “Then what are we waiting for? Hogun?”

Hogun, silent as ever, merely nodded his assent, though a corner of his mouth may have lifted just a bit. Thor turned to the last of their companions. “Sif?”

The girl pursed her lips. “I don’t know….”

“Come now,” Thor said sweetly, trying his best to be persuasive. “It will be fun, I promise.”

“Fun for _you_ , maybe,” she said tartly, but with fondness. “For some reason, the thought of a night of drinking myself stupid and wenching doesn’t quite appeal to me.”

Thor sidled up to her, taking her hand and dropping a charming kiss onto the back of it. He’d been watching Fandral, and had noted that women responded most favorably to such attention. Sif was something of an exception to most rules concerning girls, but Thor was willing to give it a try. “Please, Sif? There’s a flagon of mead with your name on it, and hordes of warriors for you to prove your superiority against. Tell me, when have you ever turned down an opportunity to do that?”

Sif snatched her hand back and glared at him, but the effect was ruined by her twitching lips and the spark of mirth in her eyes. “Fine,” she huffed. “I’ll come.”

“Excellent!”

“Too bad you’ll have to bring guards, though,” Fandral said as they headed for the door. “The night would be more enjoyable without them.”

Thor stopped so abruptly, Fandral ran into his back. There were ways out of the palace that they could take undetected, though Thor hadn’t used them in a long time. Secret ways, forgotten, hidden passages that Loki had found and that they had explored together as children. He hadn’t used them in years and didn’t know if Loki still did. Still, it was worth a try.

“There may be a way,” he said carefully. “I’m not sure. Follow me.”

He led them down one hallway and then another, into a room that seemed normal as any other, except for the section of the wall that slid open on silent hinges. Their silence attested to the fact that they were still well oiled, which meant they were still in use, or had been until recently. Thor beckoned his friends into the dark passage and the closed the door behind them quietly. In the darkness, he took several steps forward and then crouched, feeling along the floor. Whenever he and Loki had explored, they had left small caches at each end of the secret ways. Simple, useful things—torches, rope, some dried meat and fruit, hard biscuits and water skins. This pile was much smaller, the food and water skins long gone, with only the torches and rope left behind. Thor wondered what that meant. After a moment of fumbling, he managed to strike a spark and light one of the torches. As light filled the passage, he stood and turned back to his friends. “Let’s go!”

~*~

They left, slipping out of the palace without being spotted. After that, sneaking down into the city was easy and they soon found themselves in a crowded tavern, boisterous with shouts and song. The drink was heady, and Thor and his friends soon found themselves lost in their revelry. There was mead and singing and dancing and more mead and boasting and tests of physical prowess and yet even more mead. When one tavern had ceased to entertain them, they made their way through the streets to another and then finally a third.

By then, Thor was quite drunk, as was Fandral. Hogun had consumed enough that even his perpetual grimness was lightened with levity, and Sif’s cheeks were flushed as she did a great deal of un-Sif-like giggling. Only Volstagg remained mostly sober, despite the prodigious quantity of ale he’d quaffed himself. And it was at that third tavern that their night came to a rapid and unexpected end.

It had been perhaps an accident, or an unlucky combination of factors. But Thor found himself in an arm-wrestling contest with the local bruiser, a bear of man in heavy furs and dotted with scars. If Thor had been sober, he might have had fun, but his drunkenness rendered him less than competent and after a few minutes of struggle, the other man won decisively.

Thor fell back, suddenly enraged, and responded with shouted taunts and insults at the man, as well as possibly implying that his mother copulated with goats at some point. That earned him a tankard of ale in the face, and with a second wave of fury, Thor launched himself at the man.

Everything descended into chaos as the brawl expanded to include nearly everyone in the tavern. Thor threw himself fully into the fray, throwing punches with abandon, and receiving his own fair share of blows. The coppery tang of blood in his mouth and the feel of it warm on his face only served to urge him on. Fandral fought at his side, and Thor could feel Hogun’s silent presence behind him. He grinned fiercely. With his friends by his side, there was no way he could lose.

A short, sharp cry from Sif, however, caught Thor’s attention, and he whipped around to look for her, catching a meaty fist to his cheek for his efforts. “Sif!” he yelled, struggling to be heard over the tumult. “ _Sif_!”

Volstagg’s large form pushing through the seething mass of people, Sif slung carelessly over one shoulder. “I have her!” He reached out, tugged on Thor’s shoulder. “Thor, we have to go. Now!”

From somewhere else, there was another cry of pain, and the sound of something heavy shattering. And even through his haze, Thor realized that things had gotten out of hand, that a simple tavern brawling was spiraling out of control and becoming something much more dangerous. An icy ball settled in his stomach, and he looked around, yanking Fandral close to him before they could be separated by the crowd. He turned to call Hogun, but the other man was already by his side. Together, they forced their way through the crowd and out into the street. Even there they weren’t clear of the danger, some of the patrons already having carried the fighting outside.

Quickly, they ducked around the combatants, and raced back toward the safety of the palace walls. Sif demanded to be put down, but Volstagg held onto her until they were well clear. Only then did he set her down gently on her feet, apologizing for the insult. She huffed in indignation, but Thor caught the small smile of gratitude and mouthed “Thank you” she gave him.

Hastily, they made their way back to the passage and slipped inside, skulking through the dark tunnel and out into the thankfully empty room. From there, Thor’s friends made their way stealthily out of the palace and back toward their own homes. When Thor was sure they’d made it passed the guards, he sneaked along the halls to his own room. Again, luck was with him as he encountered no one on his journey. Safely back in his room, his shucked his cape, boots and shirt, and fell into bed, carefully avoiding the numerous tender spots and abrasions. He winced as he probed them. His ribs felt as though they would definitely benefit from a trip to the healer, as did his nose. Resolving to see how he felt in the morning, he gingerly slipped between the covers and almost immediately fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

~*~

“I don’t care if he’s ill! He’s my son and he will rise when I tell him to!”

The shrill words cut through Thor’s aching head as his doors flew open with a crash, causing him to flinch and groan. Frigga stalked into his room, throwing his curtains open wide and allowing the blazing, agonizing light of day to stream in through the large windows.

“Get out, all of you!” Frigga snapped to the servants that had followed her in, and they scattered like frightened rodents as Thor struggled to sit up in bed.

“Mother, what—”

“Be quiet!” His mother stood at the foot of his bed, nearly vibrating with rage and Thor blinked, slow and dumb, his mind racing to catch up with what was happening.

“What have you done?” Frigga whispered in a tight, furious voice. “Of all the foolish things you could have done, Thor, why that? I cannot _believe_ how irresponsible you are!”

Thor licked his lips, unsure of what to do when confronted by his mother in this state. Never had he seen her so angry at him. “It was just a fight, Mother,” he said carefully, trying to appease her.

It didn’t work. If anything, Frigga’s eyes grew even angrier, and her hands fisted in her skirts so tightly he feared she was going to rip the silk. “Do you even have _any_ idea of what you’ve done?” she hissed. “That _fight_ , as you call it, very nearly turned into a riot. The tavern owner has already been by to collect wergild from your father to cover the damages, as have a goodly number of people who were injured.”

“That bad?” Thor asked in disbelief.

“And what’s more,” Frigga went on, not even bothering to acknowledge his question, “is that those who were injured are demanding that _you_ be punished for your reckless behavior.”

Frigga took a deep breath through her nose. “And your father, so help him, cannot turn down their request, not when you have proven yourself to have such poor judgment.”

Thor swallowed thickly. “I understand.”

“Do you?” Frigga asked icily. “Do you _really_? Have you forgotten, _my son_ , who it is that ultimately pays for your transgressions?”

His own eyes widened in dawning horror, Thor blanched. “He can’t. Mother, he can’t! I haven’t done anything in well over a year. We’re too old for this. We should be past it. Father can’t do this!”

“Can’t he?” His mother glared at him with such a look of disgust that Thor dropped his head, unable to meet her gaze. “We thought you were past this as well. And unfortunately, your father hasn’t officially or publically repudiated or ended this farce. So Loki will pay for your misdeeds. _Again_.”

“He could end it now, couldn’t he?” Thor asked desperately. The brief, cruel enjoyment he’d taken for deliberately getting his brother in trouble has long passed, and if he didn’t feel the same distress he had as a child, he still felt ill and uneasy when it happened. “He could stop it before Tyr punishes Loki.”

“It’s a little late for that,” Frigga bit out. “Your brother is already in the throne room.”

Thor flinched away from the accusation in her tone, and Frigga made a sound of disgust low in her throat. “Clean yourself up,” she said coldly. “You reek and you look worse. When you’re presentable, your father will see you.”

With that, she swept from the room, slamming the doors behind her so hard the air echoed with the shimmers of violence, and the pain of the sound caused spots to dance in front of Thor’s eyes. For a long minute, he just sat in his bed, until shame drove him from its comforting warmth and into his bath chamber.

~*~

By the time he slipped through the doors and into the throne room, it was empty, save for his father, seated on the throne with his staff held in one fist. Thor felt Odin’s eyes upon him, watching, _judging_ as he made his way to the bottom of the dais, boots thumping loudly on the marble floor though he tried to be quiet. Finally, he stood at the foot of the stairs and glanced up.

“Father—”

“Do not speak to me,” Odin cut him off. “Right now, you are neither deserving or welcome to say _anything_.” His father’s lips tightened in absolute fury, and Thor hunched his shoulders. He wanted to somehow defend or explain himself, but in the cold and sober light of morning, and faced with both his parents’ disdain, he found there was _no_ explanation he could possibly offer.

“When I first heard the news this morning, I thought surely there had to be a mistake. For no _son_ of _mine_ could possibly be so _stupid_.”

Thor flinched, his head jerking up. That wasn’t _fair_! It had been a mistake, a lapse in judgment. He took a breath to say as much, but didn’t get any further than parting his lips.

“Do not,” Odin warned ominously. “Open your mouth and I may forget myself.” His hand creaked as it shifted and tightened upon the haft of his staff, and he drew a deep breath.

“Thor Odinson, you are a vain, foolish, greedy boy. Last night, you shamed not only yourself, but your entire house. All of Asgard. Never have I been as angry and _disappointed_ as I am with you right now. Were it not for the fact that the lamentable events of last night and this morning still fresh in my mind, I would have trouble that any boy like you could be my child.”

Stunned, Thor stumbled back a step, eyes widening in fear. He hadn’t thought his father would be _this_ angry. For the first time in his life, Thor was truly afraid of his father.

“Know this, my son. If you _ever_ show such a lack of respect for my people again, you may very well find yourself alone and outcast. I _will not_ have my realm and my people ruled by someone who values them so little.

“You would exile me?” The incredulous words were out before Thor could stop them.

“If it were for the greater good, yes.”

Thor felt something cold and horrible settle into the pit of his stomach, and his face must have reflected his shock, his fear, for Odin’s grim visage softened slightly. Instead of angry, it became tired. His father looked _old_ , and that terrified Thor in a way he could never explain.

“I would not want to,” Odin said, more quietly. “But if you leave me no choice, I will. Go now, and think on this.”

Turning, Thor stumbled his way to the great doors, blinking rapidly against the sting in his eyes.

“And Thor?” Odin’s voice called to him just as he reached the doors, and Thor threw a look over his shoulder. “Your brother has taken the last punishment he ever will for your mistakes. Remember that. And remember that he has suffered more than anyone you call brother should have had to.”

Thor nodded, throat too constricted to speak, and fled.

~*~

Of all of Loki’s qualities, perhaps his greatest was his patience. Schemes and plans could take ages before they could be enacted or before they came to fruition. So in the wake of Thor’s debacle, it became Loki’s strength. Loki knew Thor expected him to enact some sort of vengeance. It had been custom between them, a tit-for-tat exchange of hurts and grievances.

Thor expected, so Loki waited and did nothing.

At least, not yet.

Days passed, until it had been a month since Thor’s disgraceful brawl in a tavern. Thor and his idiot friends finally relaxed, finally let their guard down, and that was when Loki set to work.

First was Hogun. The man was serious to a fault, and while Loki normally admired his level head and good judgment, those qualities had been sadly lacking that fateful night. So Loki worked his magic carefully, striking at Hogun’s weakness—his sense of dignity. Now, at the worst possible time, Hogun burst into peals of uncontrolled laughter. And the more inappropriate the situation, the harder he laughed, until he took to avoiding everyone completely.

Volstagg was easier. Not being someone of especially extensive mental faculties, Loki needed only to target his baser desires. The sight of the broad warrior, robbed of his sense of taste, staring mournfully down at a plateful of food was enough for Loki.

Fandral was also trivial. The man based his self on his good looks. A large, ugly, painful boil on the end of his nose—that resisted all attempts to heal it, by either magic or simple lancing—but an abrupt end to his flirting. Eventually, he stopped appearing in public at all, hiding in his home.

Sif…. Loki thought long and hard about what the female warrior’s punishment should be. Perversely, he was angriest at her. She’d been the only one of his brother’s friends who seemed to understand the ramifications Thor’s actions had on him. And for her to simply go along with Thor’s madness was inexplicable and unforgiveable. So Loki put more effort into her punishment, using his magic to slip into her room silently, and with a sharp knife, sheared the hair from her head, scattering the golden strands across her bed like so much flotsam.

And Thor? For Thor, Loki did nothing. The cold disapproval of their parents, the pinched expression his brother always wore now, later touched with guilt when his friends suffered for his misdeeds, was enough.

Though the guilt Thor felt for inciting Loki against his comrades enraged Loki. When had Thor ever been so upset at the pain he caused _Loki_?

He let their punishments linger for weeks, though he did feel a trifle guilty on hearing that Sif had been inconsolable when she’d woken up, and that her hair was growing back a dark brown instead of the golden blonde it had been. That…had been unintended, and he wondered if some of his magic had spilled over when he’d committed the act, if what was supposed to have been a prank—albeit a severe and long lasting one—had been twisted into a genuine act of malice by his anger.

His parents said nothing, which surprised him, though he received a few hard looks. He’d expected at least some disapproval over his retribution, but perhaps they felt he’d earned the right to it. And that shock paled in comparison to the one that awaited him several weeks after he’d taken his revenge.

“Loki.”

He started in surprise, turning warily to face Sif in the hallway. He hadn’t seen much of Thor’s friends recently, and he certainly hadn’t expected any of them to seek him out.

“What?” he asked warily.

She took a step closer. “I’ve been looking for you. I wanted to speak to you.”

“Why?” he sneered. “To ask me to fix everything and make it all better?” He would never tell her that he’d already tried, that he’d snuck into her room repeatedly in aborted attempts to at least return her hair to its proper color.

Sif shook her head, the short, dark strands of hair barely moving. The thought popped into his head that she was rather pretty like this. The color suited her skin, and with it not serving as a distraction, her natural beauty shone throne, her features sharp and clear, almost regal.

“No,” Sif said softly. “I came…to apologize.”

Loki blinked. “Apologize?”

She nodded. “We shouldn’t have let Thor do what he did. I think we all knew it was a bad idea, but he has this way of…of drawing you in and making you think something is a good idea even when you know it isn’t.”

“My brother is nearly a man grown,” he snapped. “He shouldn’t need you lot to be his keepers.”

“No,” she said evenly. “Probably not. But he _does_ , and we should have known better.” Then her eyes turned slightly flinty. “But you could have just said as much. This,” and she gestured to her head, “wasn’t necessary.”

Loki looked away, feeling his cheeks heat slightly. His lips pressed together in a thin line and he nodded shortly. He would _not_ apologize, but that didn’t mean he didn’t understand where she was coming from.

Later that week, at a public feast, a shamefaced Fandral sought Loki out and mumbled an apology, fingers unconsciously touching the tip of his restored nose. Hogun, too, found Loki and offered a more sincere expression of remorse. Volstagg took the wholly unexpected approach of wrapping Loki up in a vice-like embrace, laughing at Loki’s neatly played trick.

“You’re not angry?” Loki wheezed, trying to free himself from the man’s massive arms before he was smothered to death.

“Not at all!” Volstagg boomed happily. “A jest, no more, and as soon forgotten as it’s done with. Come, feast with me! I am eager to reacquaint myself with the best Asgard has to offer, and I think my stomach will be more appreciative for its fast!”

“Er, all right,” Loki mumbled, and found himself seated beside the large warrior for the rest of the night, watching in mingled disbelief and horror as the man consumed at least three times as much food as he himself did.

~*~

Loki, Thor, and the Warriors Three and Sif entered into a tentative truce. More accurately, Loki and Thor’s friends did, while Thor remained on the other side, still close to the others, but estranged from Loki himself. Whatever their father had said to him had shaken him badly, and he was spending a great deal of time alone. If it wasn’t for one or two of the others coaxing him out of the palace every other day or so, Loki might have actually had some concern. But as it was, Thor’s troubles weren’t enough to keep him from denying himself the pleasures of a long ride or a good hunt.

On a day that Sif and Fandral had dragged Thor out to go exploring, Loki set out into the city itself, using his magic to first change shape and then to slip unnoticed among the people. His experiments often needed certain ingredients and components, and it was easier to get them himself this way rather than wait for some servant to go for him. Besides, he liked poking through the small, crowded shops that catered to his needs. There were often rare or unusual items that he found himself unable to pass up.

His trip this day had been productive, the magical pouch at his hip bulging with his purchases, and he was smiling by the time he left the last shop. His good mood left him more tolerant of the crowds around him, and he hesitated before slipping off back to the palace. Scents drifting out of the open door of a bakery caught his attention, and he carefully threaded his way among the people to have a look. What was the harm in lingering a little longer and enjoying his day out in the city?

He should have known better.

Five minutes later, he was nibbling on a delicate pastry, eating carefully to avoid getting crumbs and sugar dust all over his clothes as he ducked into an alley, intending to finish eating and then slip away, perhaps further to the outskirts and wander for a bit. The scrape of a boot on stone, however, caught his attention, and he half-turned as shadows filled the mouth of the narrow passage. The pastry fell to the ground unnoticed as Loki turned around completely to face the men who had followed him.

“Well, well,” the largest of them—clearly the leader—grinned. “If it isn’t the little jotun runt who runs around pretending to be better than he is.”

Loki raised a cool eyebrow. “You would insult an Odinson so openly?”

“You’re no Odinson!” the man spat, suddenly enraged. “Odin has but one son, and only _he_ is fit for that title. You’re nothing but a foundling, thrown out by your own people because you were too weak! You only live because the Allfather pitied you!”

Drawing himself up, and extremely grateful for the growth spurt that had left him able to look these cretins in the eyes, he glared at them. “Watch your tongue,” he said icily.

“How about I watch yours?” the man shot back. “After I cut the lying thing from your mouth?”

 _Oh._ Loki couldn’t help the bolt of shock that went through him. These men—and he quickly counted at least five—actually meant him harm. He had to get away, or at least get to a more open area. The men would likely not follow him into a public place to assault him. And with so many faced against him, his only advantage was the element of surprise.

He stood his ground, willing himself not to show fear, though his heart pounded in his chest. If he revealed the slightest hint of weakness, they would pounce before he was ready. Still, it was a few heart-stopping moments where they faced each other as he gathered his magic. And once he felt it ready, he exploded into movement.

Daggers materialized in his hands and he flung them with pinpoint accuracy. Just because he didn’t sweat himself to death in the training ring didn’t mean he was incompetent. The first two blades buried themselves in the leader’s abdomen, unlikely to be fatal wounds as small as the blades were, but enough to double him over, dropping him onto the ground and preventing his comrades from rushing forward. Loki shuffled back a few steps, gaining precious distance for he dared not turn his back, and a second set of knives buried themselves in another’s arm and shoulder.

Again, he moved back, heading for the other end of the alley. By now, the other men had surged forward, past the fallen man. The third set of knives went wide, just grazing a throat, and Loki cursed viciously. They were closing fast and he was still too far from the mouth of the alley. He couldn’t transform here—there was always a few moments of adjustment and disorientation, and if he did that, they’d tear him apart. He cursed again. There was no help for it. He’d have to make a wild dash for the exit, and hope he was faster than them.

Loki spun on his heel, racing down the narrow passage, the thunder of boots close behind filling his ears. He was close, the light growing brighter, when a sudden white hot pain ripped across his lower back. He faltered, going to one knee, desperately trying to get up, knowing he was dead if he couldn’t. Then a rough hand grabbed his shoulder and shoved him, his cheek cracking painfully onto the cobblestones. He rolled to his side, trying to face his attackers, and the pain in his back grew, drawing a scream from him as the dagger buried there ripped and tore new flesh with his movements.

He managed, shockingly, to throw up a hand and ward off the first blow, but the second caught him full in the face. Loki tasted blood, and felt it flow down his lips and chin. His mind felt dull, muted, slowly churning in a vain attempt to work while his instincts screamed at him to do _something_. Somewhere behind him, there was a distant roar of rage, and he was treated to a brief glimpse of a fist swinging a cobblestone at his head before everything went black.


	7. Chapter 7

By the time Thor returned to the city as the sun was setting, having the spent the day in Sif and Frandal’s company, he was relaxed and pleasantly tired, looking forward to a hot bath and a good meal. Those plans were put on hold, however, as he approached the gates of the city. There, guards stepped in his path, forcing him to halt.

“Your Highness,” one of them said, “you’re wanted at the palace immediately. We’ve been told to keep an eye out for your return and escort you back.”

Thor frowned. “Escort me back? Why? I’ve hardly a need for an escort.”

The guards exchanged glances, but said nothing, and Thor’s good mood fell from him like a cloak off his shoulders. “What’s happened?”

Again the look shared between the guards. “We were merely told to escort you, sir. There’s been an incident—”

He got no further as Thor jerked his horse around the men and thumped his heels into its sides, racing into the city, Sif and Fandral hot on his heels, the shouts of the guards rapidly fading. His first thought was for his father. An incident, the guard had said. Had the Odinsleep come upon him early and unaware? Thor had never known such a thing to happen, but he couldn’t rule it out. Or was there something else wrong, something that he had no idea of?

The ride back to the palace was a blur, the world around him streaming by Thor. He rode into the courtyard, slid off his horse and started racing up the steps in one smooth motion. Behind him, he could hear his friend following, and the sounds of startled guards calling his name. Thor ignored them and sped into the palace, the guards there opening the doors for him and calling instructions for him to head to the healers’ rooms.

The healers’ room. Thor’s heart leapt into his throat. _Not_ the Odinsleep then, but something else, something more serious. Guests and servants made way for him as he stormed down the halls, and he took note of their pale, strained faces with an ever-growing sense of unease. Finally, he rounded the last corner and barged into the room. An apprentice healer took one look at him and wordlessly pointed to the closed doors of the largest chamber, and went in without a word of thanks.

Both his parents stood before the large table that dominated this first room, and relief crashed through Thor, so profound that it left him light-headed. “You’re all right. I was worried….”

The words died in his throat. When he’d spoken, Odin and Frigga had both turned to look at him, and the shift of their bodies revealed the person lying on the table. Thor stepped forward, his parents parting to allow him to push right up to the table, where he looked down in shock.

Loki lay there, paler and stiller than Thor had ever seen him before. The entire left side of his face was bruised dark and swollen, like the skin of a ripe plum, and smudges of blood pooled beneath the skin reached over to the unblemished skin of the right side, like grasping fingers. There was dried blood staining his lips, and Thor could see more matting his black hair together, especially above his left ear, where there was a knot almost the size of his fist rising. He was filthy, covered in dirt and grime, except for where it had clearly been hastily wiped away from his face and hands. His clothing was torn, and Thor could see where it had been cut away.

Thor looked up immediately at his father. “What happened?”

Odin’s face, already tired and grieved, grew heavier as his features tightened. But before he could answer, there was a discreet clearing of a throat behind them, and all three turned to look. The head healer stood there, looking pale, but determined. “Your Majesties, please. There’s nothing more to be done at the moment, and we need to clean him up and make him more comfortable. We will tell you as soon as there is any change. And the captain of your guard wants to speak to you, my king.”

His father nodded and moved immediately to leave the chamber. He paused to look back at his wife. “Would you…?”

“Yes, of course,” Frigga murmured quietly, gently gripping Thor’s elbow. “Come, Thor. You need to refresh yourself. I will explain after you’ve bathed and eaten.”

“What?! No! I want—”

A single, quelling look from his mother had his mouth snapping shut against the rest of the tirade that was about to pour forth. Instead he just nodded and let her lead him from the room. They parted ways just outside the doors, Frigga hurrying after Odin and Thor striding off for his own chambers. He half expected to encounter his companions on the way, but the hallways were curiously empty.

In his rooms, a meal and a bath were already prepared, but Thor only used enough water to sluice the sweat from his body before pulling on a clean set of clothes and ignored the meal entirely in favor of pacing back and forth, fists clenching and unclenching in agitation. What had happened? Had Loki somehow injured himself, perhaps during one of his experiments or a fall? Thor discarded those ideas almost immediately. Loki was too careful, too meticulous. And he doubted guards would refer to it as an “incident” and not an “accident” if that were the case.

What _had_ happened?

There was a brief knock on his doors, and then they opened to admit his mother before he could even bid her to enter. He crossed the floor to her immediately and took her hands when she held them out to him. They seemed so small in his own, tiny and ice cold. “Mother, what happened?”

Frigga sighed and shook her head, pulling Thor to sit on the large, comfortable couch set before the cold fireplace. Thor let her pull him down next to her, their hands still clasped.

“Your brother,” she said slowly, “was attacked when he went into the city today.”

“Attacked?” Thor stared at her, aghast. “But…who would dare?”

“There were five of them,” Frigga continued. “Led by Ulfr Andersson. They trapped him in an alley. Loki fought back, but they stabbed him in the back and hit him repeatedly. Hallr Svenson struck him in the head with a cobblestone.”

Thor sagged back into his seat. He knew the names, knew the men. They were a bit hot-headed, but they’d always been honorable warriors. He didn’t understand why they would do something like this.

“Why?” he asked. “What could possibly cause them to attack Loki?”

Frigga frowned, her slim brows drawing together and her lips pursing. “Do you truly have no idea?”

Thor looked at her, bewildered, and shook his head.

His mother drew her hands from his and smoothed the skirt of her dress with a too-careful motion. “This is your fault, Thor.”

“What?!” Thor jerked back, leaping to his feet, as if he could bodily remove himself from the accusation. “How can you say that? I wasn’t there! I would _never_ do that to Loki! How _dare_ you blame it on me?!”

Frigga stood, drawing herself up to full height. She was a tall woman, though now that Thor was nearly full grown the top of her head only came to his chin. With her back straight and shoulders set, her chin lifted imperiously, she looked every inch the queen she was and Thor felt himself shirking away from the cold judgment on her face.

“Do you _really_ think yourself blameless?”

“Of course! How can you say that I would do something like that?!”

“I can say it, my son, because by your every action you have taught the people of Asgard how to treat Loki. Why do you think those brutes dared to attack him? They invoked _your_ name when they did so!”

“Using my name—”

“Don’t!” Frigga slashed a hand through the air in front of her. “For once in your life, you will keep your mouth shut and _listen_. For years you have _publically_ shunned and spurned Loki. You have shown the people that you do not consider him your equal, that he is to be treated with scorn and disdain. You know what he is. You know the prejudices of our people. And yet you acted as nothing more than a spiteful child. By your actions and your hand, you have told others it is not only all right, but a good thing to treat him as you do. It was only a matter of time before this happened, and _it is your fault_. If not for your actions, those men would never have dared lift a hand to him.”

Thor stared back at her, tense and angry, his jaw clenching. He could see the anger in his mother’s face, see the tension in every line of her body. But his initial fear and worry was being buried under his own rising anger. What did she think he was? Did she think he condoned this? Approved it? That if he had been there he would have allowed it to happen? Or participated?

“Don’t you dare blame this on me,” he growled.

“I will blame this on whomever I wish to!” Frigga snapped back, voice brittle and eyes bright. “You are not the sole person responsible, I grant you, but you are responsible for a great portion of the motivation behind their actions. Out of everyone in Asgard, Loki should have been the one you looked out for the most, and instead you have treated him as an enemy and not as your brother.”

“He’s not my brother.” The words slipped out sullenly, without thought, and they’d barely left his lips before a resounding _crack_ echoed through the room and the left side of Thor’s face lit up like it was on fire. He stared at his mother, at the open, trembling hand she held before her. He hadn’t even seen the blow coming. She’d struck him. For the first time in his life, one of his parents raised a hand to him, and that shocked him far more than the sting of the slap.

“You will _never_ say that again,” Frigga warned in a low, ominous voice. “Not in my presence or in anyone else’s. Loki is my son, as are you, and you _are_ brothers. You always will be. I don’t know where this hate has come from, but Loki has done nothing to earn it.”

All the resentment from years of watching his parents favor Loki, fuss over him and his accomplishments, welled up inside of Thor. “You would say that, wouldn’t you?” he sneered. “He always was your favorite. Yours and Father’s both.”

Confusion twisted across his mother’s features. “What are you talking about? We love you both equally. We have no favorites.”

Thor laughed scornfully. “Please. You think I didn’t notice? That I didn’t see? Everyone knows how you value him more, how you care about him more.”

“Thor, what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about everything!” Thor exploded, throwing his arms wide. “I’m talking about the way Father ditched my lessons to teach Loki instead! I’m talking about the way you make such a big deal whenever he does the least little thing right! It doesn’t matter what I do, because Loki is always there doing something better! And don’t pretend it’s not true, because it is! It’s been that way for years!”

Thor realized with horror that angry tears had spilled down his cheeks during his tirade, and he scrubbed an angry hand across them, wiping away evidence of his weakness. “Why?” he asked. “Why is he better than me when I’ve tried to do everything right?”

He fell quiet, a sniffle the only thing breaking the silence between them. His mother’s eyes were wide, the anger and confusion wiped from her face. “Oh, Thor,” she breathed. “Oh, my foolish child. Is that what you think?”

“Of course it’s what I think. It’s true, isn’t it? And now you’re blaming this on me, too. Well, why not?”

Frigga sighed and closed her eyes. “And all this time we thought you knew,” she muttered. She shook her and pressed her hands to her face for a moment. Then she lowered them and reached for Thor, but he jerked his arm out of reach. Frigga just sighed again.

“We never favored Loki over you,” she said quietly. “Though looking at it now, I can see why you thought that.”

“Right. Sure. So I just imagined all the extra time Father spent training Loki, then? Or the way you praise his accomplishments so openly?”

“No, but it’s not what you think.”

“Then what is it?! Tell me, please, because I’d love to hear your explanation.”

His mother gave him a long look. “Thor, you are descended from a long line of warriors. Everything about your life revolves around that. You have the best teachers and instructors, the best tools to practice with. When have you ever wanted for anything in your training?

“And do you not listen to those who praise your abilities? I know you’ve heard it. Does the acclaim of an entire realm mean so little to you?”

“Then why didn’t Father have more to do with it? Why did he devote so much time to Loki? He could have given me just a little more. What could it have hurt? Why did Loki get everything from him these last years?”

“Who else did your brother have?” Frigga asked quietly. “Who could we have turned his education over to? Your brother’s magic is so advanced that there _are_ no others who could have taught him. Even your father is hard pressed these days to find magic sufficiently strong enough to teach him.

“And as for praising him…. Thor, Loki’s strength lies in something most people will never understand, in something they will never respect as much as the strength of your arm. Even your father, for all his skill and accomplishments, does not openly flaunt his skill at magic. If we don’t praise Loki for his abilities…who will?”

Thor had no answer for that. He wanted to refute her words, so pretty and neat, but…but there was an undeniable truth to them. Hadn’t he mocked Loki for the very things his mother said Loki would be mocked for? And he knew others praised him, but that mattered very little against the lack of approval from his parents.

Frigga stepped forward and reached up to lay her hand over the mark she’d left on his cheek. “And maybe we are a bit more vocal when we talk about him, but who else does he have? You have your friends, your companions. There will always be those to praise you and share in your successes. Who does your brother have, Thor? What friends does he have to share his triumphs with?”

He opened his mouth, but found no reply to be voiced. He tried to think of who Loki surrounded himself with, but came up blank. When they were younger, Loki had always been around Thor and his friends, but in recent years, Thor couldn’t recall seeing Loki with anyone else. Whenever he ran into him, Loki was always alone. In the halls and library, or out in the palace grounds, he was never with anyone else. Even at feasts, Loki never had anyone seek him out, always sitting quietly with his parents while Thor reveled with his friends.

Thor felt like everything he’d known had been suddenly turned on its head. It couldn’t have been that simple, could it? All that strife…for nothing? Had he really been that angry over something that suddenly, in the face of recent events, seemed so stupid? Had he really hated his brother because his parents were trying to make up for the things Thor had, but Loki didn’t?

Feeling sick, Thor looked at his mother helplessly.

“Your brother is alone, Thor,” Frigga said sadly. “And it pains us to see that, but there is nothing we can do about it. We cannot compel people to be his friends, or to think better of him in their hearts. We’d hoped _you_ would be that for him, but….”

She took a ragged breath and a tear spilled down her cheek, followed by more, silently falling as her grief overtook her. “Your brother lies grievously injured, and we don’t know when he will wake, if he ever does. And even if he does wake, we don’t know how much damage has been done.” She wiped at her eyes. “They broke his skull, Thor,” she whispered. “Y-You know what that can do to a man. If he does wake…he might not be the same person. He might be changed utterly.”

Responding to her distress, Thor pulled his mother to him and hugged her. Yes, he’d seen the men who returned from battle with wounds like that. Some recovered fully, but some were never right again. Sometimes it was minor, headaches that plagued them thereafter. But sometimes it was far worse, men left shadows of their former selves, distant, vague, unaware of their surroundings. They would never again lift a blade in battle. And the worst, those who were left as little more than husks, those for whom death would have better a better alternative.

Thor tried to think of Loki like that, words and thought taken from him, magic gone, green eyes vacant as he sat staring out at nothing day after day, servants required to take care of his every need, until the day he died, and he shuddered at the horror of the thought. He might still be a little angry at Loki—years of resentment didn’t suddenly reverse themselves entirely in a matter of minutes—but the thought of his brother reduced to _that_ was too horrible to be borne.

Frigga shuddered in his arms. “Oh, my baby,” she sobbed. “My little boy. Oh, Thor, _why_? He’d never done anything to them. And if it wasn’t for Volstagg and Hogun, he’d be dead.”

“Volstagg and Hogun?” he repeated, and felt her nod against his neck.

“Yes, they were there. They saw what was happening and stopped it. And they were almost too late! Just a few more seconds and…and….” She broke off, unable to continue, and Thor patted her back awkwardly.

“It’ll be all right,” he said, desperate for anything to console her. “Loki will be fine, I know it.”

She just cried harder, and Thor just kept holding her. There was something terrifying about seeing his mother so weak and upset, and as much as it shamed him, he wanted her to stop. She was supposed to be the one who held them all together, not him.

After a while she calmed down and pulled back, wiping at her face. “Oh, dear,” she said. “I’ve made a mess of your shirt.”

“It’s just a shirt. I have plenty more.”

Frigga laughed weakly, and carefully held his face between her hands. “I’m sorry I said those things to you. I was just upset.”

“It’s all right,” he said quickly.

“No. No, it’s not. Now that I know where we erred, I shouldn’t continue making the same mistakes. It wasn’t fair that I tried to blame you, and I apologize.”

“Yes, well…I don’t think I was entirely blameless, either. I…I should have asked, instead of sulking.”

“We all should have done a lot of things, I think,” she said sadly, carefully stepping away. “I should go see if your father needs anything.”

“All right.” He let his arms fall to his sides as Frigga smoothed her hair back and quietly walked to the door.

“Mother?” he called as she opened the door. She turned back. “I…I never wanted Loki to get hurt, not like this. You know that, right?”

“Yes, dear, I know.” She smiled sadly at him. “You should go see him later. It’ll give you a chance to….” She broke off, blinking quickly, and slipped from the room.

 _To say goodbye_ , Thor’s mind supplied and he squashed the thought. Loki would be _fine_.

~*~

Later that night, when the halls were empty and quiet, Thor made his way down to the healers’ rooms. He’d tried to go earlier, but had been told his brother was still being seen to and was turned away at the door. This time, the guards stationed there merely nodded to him as he slipped inside.

Loki had been moved from the table where he’d been treated initially, and Thor paused for a moment beside it, looking at the gleaming surface that held no trace of the blood and dirt that had covered it earlier.

“Your Highness?” The light voice of the attendant broke his reverie and he looked up. The girl dropped a quick curtsy. “Prince Loki is in here, if you wish to see him,” she said, gesturing at the doors behind her that led into another room.

Thor nodded, and the girl stepped aside as he passed and eased open the doors. The room beyond was dimly lit, enough to see by, but not so bright as to hurt Loki’s eyes should he awaken. Thor hesitated only a moment before shutting the door behind him. Should anything happen, the extra second to open the door would make no difference.

A large bed was set in the center of the room, and Loki rested upon it. His clothing had been removed and exchanged for a sort of loose nightshirt. Someone had washed his hair and body, and if not for the obvious injuries, he would look as if he was sleeping. Speaking of his injuries…they still surprised Thor with their severity. He knew he healed quickly, but he didn’t know if the same applied to Loki, who, after all, wasn’t Aesir. And some wounds…well, rapid healing didn’t do much for. The bruising on Loki’s face was still dark, though he thought maybe it had faded a bit at the edges. With the light, he couldn’t quite tell. The lump on his head was still there, and looked just as large as before.

Unable to help himself, Thor reached out and brushed his fingers across, wincing as he tenderly felt his brother’s misshapen skull. It had to be agony, but Loki made no sound or movement, just continued sleeping, his chest rising and falling steadily.

Thor dragged the chair nearby right up to the edge of the bed and perched on the edge of it. He stared at his brother’s still form and was seized by a sudden, horrible guilt. What if Loki didn’t wake up? What if Loki died believing Thor hated him? What if Thor didn’t have a chance to take any of it back?

For years, he’d resented Loki’s presence, when he had believed Loki was stealing what was rightfully his, but before that they’d been best friends. Before Thor had driven Loki away, they’d spent nearly every moment together, shared everything and Thor couldn’t remember a time in his life without Loki. The thought of a future without Loki was inconceivable.

“Hey,” he said, reaching out to nudge Loki’s arm. “You’re giving us all a pretty good scare, you know. But you need to wake up. It’s killing Mother and Father to see you like this. It’s…. I don’t like it either. Come on, Loki, wake up.”

Nothing. Silence. Thor bounced his leg in agitation, half-expecting Loki to reach out and clamp a hand on his knee to stop him like he used to.

“Wake up!” Thor said more insistently. “Loki, come on, please.” He reached out, took one of Loki’s limp hands in his own. He turned it over, studying the long, slender fingers, free of calluses unlike his own. The hands of a scholar, of a mage, not a fighter. But he had fought. Thor had gotten the full story from Volstagg and Hogun, and though they hadn’t seen the entire incident, it had been easy enough to piece together. Loki had faced five fully grown warriors without any weapons or armor of his own beyond what his magic could give him. He’d stood his ground and wounded three of them before they’d taken him down.

Fury filled him then, at the thought of the actions those…those _cowards_ had taken. They didn’t dare face him in open, honorable combat. No, they had ambushed him, pitting themselves as a group against Loki alone. The fight itself hadn’t even been honorable. Stabbing Loki in the back, hitting him with a rock. Thor’s hands tightened on Loki’s. They would pay for what they’d done, what they tried to do. Thor would see justice done if it was the last thing he did.

But first, Loki had to wake up.

He didn’t know how long he stayed, talking to his brother’s silent body until his voice grew hoarse. Finally the attendant entered and gently suggested he go to bed. Thor followed her suggestion reluctantly, loathe to leave, but knowing there was nothing else he could do at the moment.

Sleep brought no relief. Thor spent the night tossing and turning, and he dreamed of sitting by Loki’s bed as the years passed, and Loki wasting away before his eyes, flesh withering and dying until Thor held the hand of a skeleton instead of his brother.

~*~

The next few days were surreal, Thor passing through them strangely numb. He spent a lot of time at Loki’s bedside, joined by his parents and his friends. The bruising began to fade, as the swelling receded, but not as quickly as Thor wanted it to. And no matter how many times the healers said that it was a good thing, that he hadn’t taken a turn for the worse, each minute that passed without Loki waking sent Thor a little further into despair.

A lot of the time spent alone with Odin and Frigga was passed in quiet conversation, hurts that had been built up over the years being laid bare. There were apologies and promises made, and Thor let go of the last of his anger and animosity. In the face of what had happened, it seemed ridiculous to cling to the old resentments of misunderstanding.

On the fourth day, the head healer approached them when it was just Odin, Frigga and Thor at Loki’s bedside. He explained that sometimes injuries to the head could cause the brain to swell, that the pressure could cause damage. If the pressure could be relieved, then they could perhaps avoid further injury.

“No,” Odin said impassively.

“But, Your Majesty—”

“I said no. You are not drilling a hole in my son’s skull. The time for doing that was on the first, maybe second day of his injury. It would do no good now, and I will not have him mutilated so that you can experiment.”

The healer bowed deeply as he backed away. “As your wish, Your Majesty.”

Odin sighed once they were alone again, and reached out to touch Loki’s forehead gently. “Tomorrow, Thor, I need you in the throne room. Ulfr, Hallr and the others will be brought before the throne, and I want you there.”

“To face judgment?” Thor asked, eager to see them pay for their crimes.

His father hesitated. “No,” he said finally.

“No?” Thor looked at him, shocked. “Father, they can’t get away with this!”

“They’re not,” Odin said heavily. “But their families have asked to pay wergild in lieu of another punishment.”

“Wergild? They can’t. You can’t! You can’t let them avoid justice!”

“Wergild _is_ justice, Thor. I don’t like it, but it is the law.”

Thor turned away, feeling oddly betrayed. To have Loki’s life and well being bartered in exchange for heavy gold coins was intolerable. “And what shall they pay?!” he asked furiously. “How much is Loki’s life worth?!”

“Loki still lives,” Odin said gravely. “They will pay for assaulting a prince. That’s all the law allows.”

“Assault….” Thor laughed bitterly. “Assault,” he said again, looking at Loki’s body. “And if he dies?” he asked, ignoring his mother’s gasp. “Then what?”

“Then they pay the difference between that crime and this one.”

Thor glared at his father, but his anger flagged when faced with the naked pain in Odin’s lone eye. He swallowed back his rage, forced away the words he wanted to hurl. It was the law, an old law that applied to every citizen of the realm, and his father was helpless before it.

“I’ll be there,” he said thickly.

Odin’s hand was heavy on his shoulder when his father grasped it. “Thank you.”

The next day, the throne room was full as the perpetrators were brought forth, sullen and quiet, their families pale and nervous beside them. With a great deal of rigid ceremony, their crimes were read out and their wergild set. One by one, they each came forward to “pay” for their crimes, the amounts increasing until the last two paid, staggering sums that must have cost their families very, very dearly.

There was a moment when Ulfr looked to Thor almost triumphantly, but Thor’s cold glare and sneered lip caused the expression to fall from the other’s face. Thor hoped that Ulfr could read the promise in Thor’s expression, because he would replay what they had done in blood and pain.

Finally, the last purse was handed over, the last coin counted out. The families hustled their children from the room and Odin left without another word, Frigga at his side. Thor followed just steps behind them until they were clear of the crowds, then he bolted for his rooms and his bathing chamber, where he was violently and noisily ill. He washed his mouth out and headed to the healers’ rooms again, taking up his customary vigil at Loki’s side.

“Wake up,” he murmured, gripping his brother’s hand. “Loki, wake up.”

~*~

A dull, throbbing sensation that thudded through his head pulled Loki from the darkness he was so comfortably nestled in. He shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the movement sent agony stabbing through him, and he desisted with a whimper.

Something shifted next to him, and he heard a swift intake of breath. He uttered a sound of distress again, the noise unbearably loud.

“Loki?” a hoarse voice gasped, and with a great deal of effort Loki opened his eyes to see Thor’s shocked face looking at him.

“Thor?” he murmured, and then frowned when the word came out slurred. He tried to push himself up, but his limbs refused to respond, too heavy for him to do more than shift them. Panting with effort, he fell back onto the bed—why was he in bed?—and struggled to make sense of what was going on.

“What’s going on?” he mumbled, alarmed by the way his lips and tongue refused to form the words properly.

What he didn’t expect was Thor’s eyes to get even wider and for him surge out of the chair he was in so quickly that it toppled with a bang. His brother raced for the door, jerked it open and bellowed, “He’s awake!” so loudly that he was probably heard in Niflheim.

Then Thor was racing back to his side, ignoring the chair altogether to kneel at his bedside. Carefully, he reached out and took Loki’s hand, holding it as if Loki were made of the most fragile glass. Loki frowned at him, befuddled.

“What—?” he started to ask, but got no further as the doors opened again and healers flooded into the room. They pushed Thor out of the way and immediately began poking and prodding at Loki. 

Loki pushed them away weakly. He hurt everywhere, and they were making it worse. The healer in charge saw his distress and shooed the others away, taking over himself. His prodding was gentler, but still annoying and uncomfortable. He asked ceaseless questions, questions that made no sense and Loki wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. He twisted away as best he could until Thor intervened, literally pulling the healer away and shoving him out of the room. Then Thor was back by his bedside again.

“Sleep, Brother,” he said thickly. “I will keep them away. Sleep.”

And Loki, confused and exhausted, did.

~*~

The next time Loki woke, he was slightly more coherent, and his mother sat by his bed, silently stitching something. At his first stirrings, she set it aside instantly and helped him sit up, propping pillows behind him so that he didn’t have to support any of his own weight.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

“Ghastly,” he replied, concentrating on enunciating. “Thirsty,” he added after a moment of trying to swallow.

Frigga immediately fetched a cup of water off of a table, holding and tipping it for him until it was gone.

“What happened?” he finally managed to ask.

“You don’t remember?” she asked. He shook his head slightly. “Nothing? I think that a good thing then.”

Quietly, she filled him on what had happened and he frowned as he listened to the tale, trying to recall the events she described. He…remembered a few things—the fear, running—but nothing more. He was upset, but only distantly. Revenge would come in time, but a far more important matter troubled him at the moment.

“What’s wrong with me?” he managed to ask when she was done and he had a chance to gather his strength.

“You were badly hurt. It’ll be some time yet before you’re fully healed. Until then, just rest.”

“My magic?” he gasped.

“It will return.” Her hand squeezed his arm. “I promise you, you’ll be fine, Loki. Just rest.”

He nodded, sleep already claiming him. One thought nagged at home, keeping him from slipping off. “Thor,” he managed. “Thought I…saw Thor…here.”

“That’s because he was. Now sleep, Loki.”

~*~

Each time he woke, he managed to stay awake a little longer. And each time, there was someone at his bedside. Sometimes it was Odin, who sagged with visible relief when Loki opened his eyes and spoke. Frequently it was Frigga, whose features lit with ever increasing joy each time he greeted her. But, curiously, most often it was _Thor_ , who always seemed amazed when Loki woke, and then hovered anxiously at his side until Loki fell asleep again.

As the healers said, he regained his strength, if slowly. His injuries healed, especially when his magic began to trickle back and he could apply it to himself. There was a tightness in his jaw that lingered a bit longer, and headaches came easily, but after a week or so, the healers said he could return to his rooms. He accepted with alacrity, wanting to get back to more familiar, more comfortable surroundings.

He was surprised when Thor was there to help him back, letting Loki sling an arm around his neck and taking his weight while Loki shuffled through the halls—he refused to be carried. And when he was back in his rooms, it was Thor who helped him into bed, fetched him things he needed, brought him meals while he rebuilt his strength. And not once did Thor ever express a single complaint at what Loki was sure he would consider demeaning tasks.

“Why are you doing this?” he finally asked one day, tired of trying to puzzle out Thor’s odd behavior.

“Doing what?” Thor asked, fiddling with his sleeve.

“ _This_ ,” Loki said. “Playing nursemaid and servant to me. Given that you usually can’t stand to be in the same room as me, I find it highly unusual.”

Thor ducked his head and Loki watched as he fidgeted in place. Finally, he looked up and Loki was taken aback by the raw look in the deep blue eyes.

“I thought you were going to die,” he said hoarsely. “And I realized that if you did, I would be partly at fault. This… wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t been such an idiot.”

“So you’re doing this because you feel guilty,” Loki surmised.

“Yes,” Thor said plainly. “But is that a bad thing? I…I never should have done the things I did, and I’m sorry, Loki. I…I’ve had some long talks with Mother and Father, and I know that I’ve been an unmitigated ass. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, and I don’t expect you to forgive me right away, but I need to do _something_ to make up for it.”

Loki stared at him, hardly believing what he was hearing. Years of scorn and slights gone, like smoke in the breeze? Just like that? Just because someone had bashed Loki’s skull in with a rock?

“Fetching things for me is hardly reparations,” he managed to retort, bitterness making his tone snide.

“I know,” Thor nodded. “But I want to make this up to you, if you’ll let me.” He looked so bloody earnest that Loki had to bite back an instinctual urge to simply accept. Loki looked away, clenching his jaw and holding tight to thread of pain the action caused. If Thor thought Loki would simply forgive him because he expressed remorse, he had another thing coming.  His brother had _years_ of offenses to answer for yet before Loki would even begin to think about forgiving him.

“We’ll see,” Loki finally said. “We’ll see.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, really, no one though to inform me that I'd forgotten placeholder names in the last chapter? Or did everyone think it was cool for Odin to call people "Bastard" and "Asshole"? XD

Thor waited through those interminable weeks, watching carefully, until he was sure that Loki would be fine, that there would be no lasting damage from the attack before he allowed himself to solidify his plans. If Loki had been permanently impaired in any way, it would have affected his decision.

He slipped away from Loki's side one evening after Loki had retired early and sought out Hogun. "My friend," he said in a low tone. "I have need of you."

Hogun merely raised one brow and tilted his head, waiting for Thor to speak. Thor bent his head close to the other man's murmuring into his ear. Hogun blinked once, not quite in surprise, and then nodded.

Thor watched him for a moment before nodding himself and turning on his heel to go back to Loki's rooms.

~*~

Loki permitted Thor to fawn over him until his strength and his magic were both nearly fully returned. It was amusing to see his brother, the mighty Thor, rushing to fetch whatever he wanted like the lowest of servants. Loki's enjoyment was somewhat tempered by the fact that Thor seemed unbothered by being tasked with things that were beneath him. If Loki didn't know better, he would have suspected that Thor took pleasure from being at his beck and call. But as that couldn't possibly be the case, he kept pushing Thor, hoping to get him to crack, and enjoying the fruits of his labors in the meantime.

Nonetheless, once Loki was almost completely recovered, Thor's coddling grew stifling, and he chased Thor away with a snapped warning that he would light his hair on fire if he didn't stop. Thor looked a little wounded at the threat, but before Loki could take any comfort in things returning to normal, his brother acquiesced with a sunny smile. And that _should_ have given Loki the space and distance he craved, except that as soon as he dismissed Thor from his presence, Thor began _hovering_.

No matter where he went, within a matter of minutes, Thor would seemingly appear from nowhere and cling to Loki like a burr. It was infuriating. For _years_ Thor had shunned and harassed him by turns, and now he thought Loki would welcome him by his side? Reluctantly, in an effort to keep the new, weird peace that enveloped the family, he held his tongue until he could bear it no more.

“Why?!” he finally snarled, rounding on Thor who was following him like a lost puppy. “Why are you doing this?!”

“Doing what? Loki, I—”

“Don't!” Loki cut him off. “Don't pretend like you don't understand. You're not that stupid and we both know it. You spent _years_ hating me and now you spend every moment lingering at my side? _I_ was the one who sustained a blow to the head, not you. You will tell me _why_ you're doing this.”

“Loki….”

“ _Tell me_!” he screamed and immediately wished he hadn't. He sounded like a petulant child and probably looked the part. Unlike Odin and Thor, Loki was far from magnificent in his fury. His face flushed and his eyes welled with tears. His movements were jerky and spasmodic and his voice shrilled. Anger made it hard to think, to articulate. When he lost himself to anger, it made him look and sound ridiculous; he'd learned to keep his fury a cold thing, something that would work for and not against him.

He took a deep breath and released it slowly, forcing his fists to unclench and smoothed his tunic. He willed his anger back until it no longer burned hot within him.

“Tell me,” Loki commanded Thor, calm once more.

For a long moment, Thor didn't say anything, looking down at his feet. When he did look up, he looked _sad_ and Loki frowned. What cause did Thor have to be sad?

“I missed you,” he said quietly. “The whole time I was angry or jealous or annoyed…I still missed you. You never laughed when I messed up. Well, you did,” he added quickly, “but you were never mean about it. I could be myself around you and not having to worry about making a fool of myself because you didn't care about that.”

“And you think your friends do?” Loki scoffed.

“They do,” Thor insisted. “You don't understand. They look up to me—”

“A frightening thought.”

“—and I can't let them down. You don't understand what it's like.”

Something snapped inside of Loki, like ice breaking on a frozen lake, spreading out in fractured lines.

“No,” he said furiously, voice tight and hard. “No, Thor, you're right. I don't know what that's like. And do you know why?” Stepping forward, he advanced on Thor, triumphant when the bigger man gave ground, allowing himself to be crowded against the wall. “I don't know because I don't have _friends_. Do you have any idea,” he spat, “what it's like to know that the _only_ reason people ever associated with you was because they just wanted to be close to your brother? To have not a single person look at you and see anything of value?”

He stepped forward again, stabbing his finger into Thor's chest and feeling the flesh and muscle give under the hard jab. “No, you don't. You don't because no one looks at you and sees a monster. No one sees a weakling who'd rather hide behind his magic than take up steel in an ‘honorable' fight. No, to everyone, you're _Thor_. Odin's _real_ son, the _real_ prince, the _real_ Aesir who;s bright and beautiful and _perfect_ and...and....

Loki had to stop because he could no longer get the words out between his sobs, years of frustration and anger and jealousy and _hurt_ all pouring out of him. He didn't want this, didn't want to break down, to admit that yes, he'd been affected. Yes, he'd been jealous. Yes, he hated always being on the outside looking in. Yes, he hated Thor for abandoning him when he was the only thing Loki had. And he didn't want to break down in front of Thor. Not in front of anyone, really, but especially not _Thor_.

Thor just stared at him, wide-eyed and horrified, and Loki dragged a hand over his face, shaking, wiping away tears that were instantly replaced by new ones.

“Loki,” Thor whispered, reaching out in disbelief to touch Loki's cheek. “Loki, I'm sorry.”

Loki batted his hand away. “I highly doubt that. You've never really been sorry about anything in your life.”

“But I….” Thor wrung his hands helplessly. “I _am_. I just…how do I fix this?”

“You can't!” Loki cried, throwing his arms out wide. “You can't _fix_ this, Thor! You've spent the last five or six years treating me like a pariah and now you think a month of trying to be nice is going to make everything all better?” Loki made a disgusted sound low in his throat. “Stop following me. Stop trying to pretend you care.”

“Loki—”

“No! Enough, Thor! Just _leave me alone_!”

Shocked, Thor slid sideways along the wall until he was clear of Loki and then stumbled away. Loki listened to him go, head and shoulders bowed, until the sound of his brother's uneven footsteps faded, and then he sank to his knees, face buried in his hands. He allowed himself another few moments of weakness and then dragged himself back to his feet. It was time to put himself back together, to don the armor that prevented everyone from seeing how he really felt. Time to go back to pretending everything was all right.

~*~

Frigga found Thor in his room when he didn't come to dinner. She knocked briefly, waited a moment, and then pushed the door open silently. Thor looked over from where he was curled up on the balcony, and when he didn't say anything, she came to his side, the hem of her gown whispering over the marble floors. She tucked herself down on the ground next to him and reaching out, drew him down so that his head rested in her lap. “What's wrong, my son?” she murmured, carding her hands through his hair, gently working free the tangles and snarls she encountered.

“He hates me,” Thor mumbled into her skirt.

“Who does?”

“Loki.”

“Oh, Thor,” his mother sighed. “He doesn't hate you.”

“He does.” Thor laughed, bitter and unhappy. “You didn't...you didn't hear him. I tried to apologize, but he doesn't believe me. He doesn't want anything to do with me.”

“I don't think that's true. I think Loki very much wants to have everything to do with you, but he doesn't know how to anymore.”

Turning his head, Thor looked up at his mother. “This is my fault.”

“Yes,” Frigga said carefully, still working her fingers through his hair. “But it's not too late. You can't give up, not now. If you really want to make amends, you need to keep trying.” She paused, tilting her head. “Are you truly sorry?”

“ _Yes_.”

“Then you must keep trying. Give Loki the space he needs, but don't let him push you away. It won't be easy and it won't be quick, but he's your brother and I think he's worth this effort, don't you?”

He nodded. “I'm not sure where to start,” he confessed.

“Hmm. Well, don't stop being yourself. Changing yourself just to make someone else happy never works. But you might consider including Loki in activities he might enjoy. And you might try taking an interest in what he does.”

“You mean in magic?” Thor held up his hands, big and blunt and made for wielding a sword. “I'm not really suited for that.”

Frigga laughed warmly. “You never know, you might be surprised. But even if you can't use seidr, you should allow Loki to show you what he can do.” Frigga sighed. “Thor, you should see what your brother is capable of. Loki's magic…it truly is magnificent. The two of you working together would be something the bards would sing of for ages. Try to get him to show you, when he's ready. I think you'll be suitably impressed.”

Thor nodded against her leg. “I'll try.”

“That's the first—and most important—step. You'll be fine.”

He just nodded again, and they set together on the balcony, watching the colors of the sky as the sun set.

~*~

Doing his best to follow his mother's advice, Thor backed off, giving Loki space. He wanted to fix this…thing between his brother and himself, but Loki wasn't a broken vase to be glued back together piece by piece. What Thor had done to Loki—what they had done to each other—was going to take time to undo, and though Thor was far from being a patient person, he willed himself to wait, to give Loki time to begin trusting him again.

To that end, while he kept his distance, he always made sure to greet Loki warmly whenever he saw him, to ask how he was doing or what he was up to. And he ignored Loki's narrow-eyed looks of distrust and clipped words. Once they would have driven him off, but this was too important to throw away just because of some well-placed caution.

The biggest test, though, would be tonight's feast. Loki was going to be attending a social gathering for the first time since the attack, and Thor knew all too well the kind of whispers and insults spoken in an undertone that would follow him. After all, he'd taken part more often than not in the last several years, and his comments had hardly been all that quiet. _But not this time_ , he vowed to himself. He waited outside the hall, even after the guests began arriving, checking the corridor nervously. Loki usually entered unobtrusively, doing what he could to stay below the crowd's notice, and Thor didn't expect anything to be different this night.

He didn't have long to wait. Loki came striding down the hallway, head down, until he approached the door. Then he slowed, shooting Thor a questioning look. “What are you doing here?” he asked warily.

“I thought we could enter together,” Thor said, smiling at him.

Loki didn't say anything, just crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Thor with suspicion. “Together,” he said flatly after a moment.

“Yes.”

“You want to enter the feast with me.”

“Yes!”

“You _want_ people to see us together.”

“Loki, for the last time, yes!”

“Why?”

Thor shrugged. “Why not?”

Loki's expression tightened. “Are you doing this because you think me incapable of protecting myself? Do you think me too weak to defend myself without your help?”

Thor could feel his face fall, though he tried to rein back his disappointment. “No, that's not it at all. I don't think you're weak.”

“Then why this sudden desire to be at my side?”

From through the heavy, carved doors next to them, Thor could hear the sounds of the crowd beyond them, already deep in revelry. He listened for a moment, studying the patterns worked into the gold of the doors. “I know you don't believe me,” he said, his voice low enough that only Loki would be able to hear him, even if someone else were to walk by. “I know that what I've done has given you no reason to. And I can tell you I'm sorry until I'm blue in the face, but it won't matter worth a damn until I prove it. I know that.  Just like I know it might take years to do that.”

He looked over, looked back at Loki and the green eyes that had widened slightly. “But I will. I promise you, Loki, I will do whatever it takes to prove myself to you, no matter what I have to do or how long it takes.”

It was easy to see that Loki didn't believe him, but there was _something_ in his expression, the slightest trace of uncertainty that gave Thor hope. He couldn't pretend to understand exactly what Loki was feeling right now, but he knew that Loki was risking a great deal if he trusted Thor and Thor betrayed him again.

Finally, Loki nodded. “Fine. Then, by all means, let us attend the feast.”

Thor didn't have to fake the relieved smile that broke across his face as Loki turned to face the doors and opened them with a casual wave of his hand before Thor could reach forward to push them open. The sounds of the crowd broke over them, and almost immediately, people began coming up to greet Thor. With Loki at his side, they were forced to greet him as well unless they wished to risk giving offense, though their salutations to his brother were noticeably more wan and hesitant. Thor pretended not to notice, and with all the charm and skill he had, he dragged Loki around the room.

At first, Loki was mostly silent, resisting Thor's attempts to engage him in conversation. And then when that didn't appear to phase Thor, he chose a different tactic, shifting the conversation or dropping comments about topics that deliberately made those they were talking to uncomfortable. He saw the challenge in Loki's eyes, the way his brother was trying to get Thor to push him away, and instead of taking that bait, he accepted the gauntlet Loki had tossed at his feet and merrily followed his brother down the path of social faux pas.

By the end of the night, there were probably a good many people that thought the oldest prince of Asgard had taken leave of some of his sense, but it was worth it the see the appraising look Loki threw his way. He knew his brother well enough to know that this was hardly going to be the end of Loki's tests, but Loki had a lot to learn if he thought _this_ would be enough to dissuade him.

~*~

About a week after that, with Loki still as skeptical as ever, and Thor just as determined, Hogun slipped through the halls of the palace late one night. He found Thor in his rooms, and when he entered, Thor immediately sat up. “Tonight?” he asked his friend quickly.

Hogun nodded. “They have a pattern. Tonight would be best. Fandral, Volstagg and Sif are already waiting.”

“Excellent!” Thor leapt to the feet and opened one of his wardrobes. A shapeless bundle sat on the bottom and he grabbed, shaking it out to reveal a leather jerkin, a dark cloak, and a short, heavy truncheon. He donned them quickly and then he and Hogun departed silently, walking silently through the halls until they'd joined their friends. “Ready?” he asked, and they nodded, their eyes gleaming.

He turned ready to go, when his mother's words came back to him. _Consider including Loki in activities he might enjoy._ Oh. Oh, yes, he thought Loki would very much enjoy this. “Wait here,” he muttered, and sprinted back down the hallways until he came to Loki's rooms. He didn't bother to knock, just entered.

Loki was sitting in a chair, curled up with a book open in his lap, and he started when Thor entered. “What do you want?” he asked.

“You busy?”

“No….”

“Good. Get your boots on, grab a cloak, and come with me.”

“Why?”

“Loki, just do it! Please! We don't have a whole lot of time.”

Glaring at Thor, Loki nevertheless set his book down and rose. He got his boots and his cloak, taking enough time that Thor chafed at the delay and muttered at him to hurry up. When he was dressed, he looked at Thor. “What now?”

“Just come with me.”

He led them back down to the others, and when his friends saw his brother they were startled for a moment before nodding in approval. The smile Sif gave was absolutely _gleeful_. Loki hesitated, but when they turned to him, clearly all waiting for him, he merely shrugged and moved closer.

As a group, they moved quickly and quietly out of the palace and into the city. They were uniformly dressed in dark leathers, no gleaming armor or weapons to give them away. Each carried blunt weapons, nothing with edges—weapons designed to _hurt_ , but not maim or kill. Loki eyed them curiously, and then shot Thor a speculative look, but said nothing.

They made their way through dark city streets, until they stood in an alley across from a tavern. Thor and his friends huddled against a wall, attempting to stay out of sight, but Loki stood boldly in the middle, in plain view of anyone who looked. Thor hissed at him to get out of sight, and Loki just turned to him, raised an eyebrow and gave him a pitying look. And then Thor realized _oh, magic_ , and began to grin, coming up to stand next to his brother.

“And what makes you think I'm shielding you as well?” he murmured. Thor looked at him in alarm because if he was seen now, then all the planning would have been for naught. Loki looked at him steadily, and then a small grin tugged at his mouth and he rolled his eyes. “Quit worrying. I am. Your friends can join us, if they're of a mind.”

Slowly, the others came away from the wall, until they were arranged in a loose semi-circle at the mouth of alley. “And what, precisely, are we waiting for?” Loki asked.

“Just wait,” Thor replied.

As the minutes ticked by, Loki grew impatient, tapping his foot on the cobbled street. “If you are wasting my time, Thor, so help me….”

He trailed off as the door the tavern opened and a group of men spilled out into the street. Thor glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. Loki's mouth was set in a thin, tight line and his hands were balled into fists.

He was very, very pale.

“Loki?” he said under his breath, as quietly as he could.

“I'm all right,” Loki muttered, watching Ulfr and his gang staggering down the street. “You planned this?”

“Yes,” Thor said grimly. “Since the beginning, but I didn't ask Hogun to track them until recently.”

“It's a wonder you could hold off that long.”

“I had to wait,” Thor said calmly, “until you recovered.” He stared at him until Loki met his gaze. “I had to know whether or not I needed to kill him.”

Loki's eyes went wide, and for just a moment, Thor saw true shock painted across his brother's features. “You….” He looked away, swallowing hard. “You're serious.”

“I have never been more serious. Had they done any permanent damage, I swear to you that their lifeblood would have already watered the ground.”

Loki turned back, searching Thor's face for something, and then his lips spread in a true, genuine smile. “I didn't think casual offers of murder would be nearly so appealing.” Then his look became speculative. “You know no one will approve of this, right? If Father finds out….”

“Then we'll just have to make sure he doesn't.”

“Is that why you didn't challenge him to holmgang?”

Thor's hand fell to the truncheon hanging on his belt, grasping it tightly for a moment. “They've paid wergild. According to the law, they've paid for their crimes, and if I were to challenge them, everyone would know what the real reason was. I don't mind getting into trouble over it, but…they attacked _you_ , Loki. You should have a hand in your own revenge, don't you think? They were cowards when they attacked you and they chose a cowardly path when they paid wergild.”

“And this, jumping them in an alley under cover of night, isn't cowardly? There is no honor in this, Thor.”

“Maybe not. But this is _justice_ , and I refuse to give that piece of garbage the chance for any honor.”

“Well, all right then.” And with that, Loki stepped forward, long strides taking him rapidly down the street toward Ulfr and the others. Thor and his friends hurried to catch up before Loki waded into a fray alone. Just before the two groups, Thor realized that Loki must still be cloaking them, because even as drunk as they were, Ulfr and his friends were still trained warriors. They should have heard _something_. But they continued to stumble on, laughing and slurring their words as they bantered.

Loki made the first move. He reached out, a long, heavy staff appearing in his hand as if he were simply plucking it out of the air. It distracted Thor briefly, the wonder of having a weapon come to one's hand when one needed it, and by the time he recalled himself enough to pull his own weapon from his belt, his brother had already attacked, sweeping his staff in a low arc to cut the legs of the man before him out from under him.

The fight was ridiculously short. In a handful of breaths, they had moved forward and surrounded Ulfr's cronies, their heavy weapons subduing the drunken men with crunching sounds and cries of pain. Loki took down Ulfr himself, the tip of his staff catching the man just under the point of his jaw, and dropping him to the cobblestones like a sack of grain.

It was perhaps childish to beat fallen men, but none of them cared. The expended some effort to making sure they didn't actually break anything, but by the time Thor, Loki and the others were done, the men one the ground were going to be feeling the bruises for weeks.

“We'll tell the Allfather!” Ulfr gasped, wheezing as Loki planted the butt of his staff into his gut.

“Go ahead,” Thor said grimly. “And then we'll keep meeting like this. I'm not afraid of you. You are _nothing_.”

“Bastard,” Ulfr hissed, and then spat a glob of bloody spit at Loki when he pressed the staff deeper into his stomach. “You let your _ergi_ of a false brother unman you. No true Aesir would—”

His words cut off with a short, high scream as Loki reversed his staff, bringing the top end down with a tremendous amount of force and speed between his legs. Ulfr rolled away, clutching at himself and whimpering.

“Please, do go on,” Loki drawled.

“Monster,” Ulfr grated between clenched teeth. “Jotun runt. Ergi. You have no honor. You never will.”

Almost casually, Loki swung his staff again, aiming at Ulfr's face and the other man flinched away from the oncoming blow. But Loki pulled his strike just before it struck, the dark wood less than an inch from the other man's face. “I may be all of those things, true. But…do you think I need to touch you to hurt you? Do you think this crude brawl is the extent of the things I can do to you? Do you have _any_ idea of what I'm capable of? Run home, little man. Hide behind your mother's skirts like the child you are, and remember than I can find you no matter where you go.” He took one hand off his staff to let it fill with green fire. “Each time you lay your head down and your sleep is haunted by nightmares, each time you see something out of the corner of your eye and nothing's there, each time you hear a footstep behind you when you are alone…that will be me, watching you.”

Loki stepped back, pulling his step away. “Run however far you want. You can never escape my reach.”

Ulfr stared at him with wide eyes and then scrambled to his feet, fleeing down the street with his friends limping along behind them. They watched them go, Volstagg and Fandral exchanging whoops of glee as the rest put their weapons away.

“Can you really do that?” Thor asked Loki, looking at his brother with wondering eyes.

Loki snorted. “No, of course not. But _he_ doesn't know that.”

Thor just stared at him for a moment before letting out a bark of laughter. He slung his arm across Loki's shoulders and turned them back in the direction of the palace. “Come, my friends. A drink to a job well done!”

“Is there ever anything not worth a drink to you?” Loki murmured, allowing himself to be pulled along.

“Not really,” he replied easily. “But I think it truly is merited this time.”

They were nearly back to the palace, Thor's arm still across Loki's shoulders, when Loki hesitated. “Thor,” he said quietly, letting the others pass them, “thank you.”

Thor looked at his brother, no trace of deceit or anger on his face, just genuine gratitude, and nodded his head. “Always, Loki. For you, always.”

Loki blinked, eyes bright, and then shrugged Thor's arm off. “Come,” he said, loud enough to catch everyone attention. “If it's a drink you want, then we'd best hurry.”

Thor watched him lead the way, his friends falling in behind Loki as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and felt a furious stab of self-loathing at all the wasted time and anger because he was so blind. It was followed by an overwhelming wave of gratitude that it wasn't too late, that he still had the chance to make things right.

“Are you coming, Thor?” Sif called.

“Yes. I'll be there in a minute,” he called back and took a deep breath before jogging to catch up with his friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to put a little note here to call attention to a turn that the story is going to take, one that should not at all be very surprising since it's been tagged that way since the beginning.
> 
> *eyeballs the M/M and Loki/Thor tag*
> 
> I am not going to tell you how or when this is exactly going to happen, but I wanted to give fair warning to those readers who might not like to read it. The end of this chapter can be taken as a natural end to the story if you don't want it to go any further. I do still have a bit more plot with the whipping boy aspect itself, as well as a whole lot of plot about how things continue to develop between Loki and Thor, but it's not necessary to read if you want to leave the boys exactly where they are now, which is not a bad place at all.
> 
> However, if you do want more, then more shall indeed be coming!
> 
> Also, I need to not write notes in comment boxes. It makes me look like I didn't pass 6th grade English.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things:
> 
> 1) A second warning in case anyone missed the end of Chapter 8. I am now going to start wandering into the area of those M/M and pseudo-incest tags. So if you don't want to read it, stop here.
> 
> 2) I'm abusing both the myth and canon stories of how Thor got Mjolnir. Forgive me. And, yes, I know I mentioned Gungnir once previously. Ignore that and pretend that Odin just had a plain staff of office or something. I've tweaked the relevant chapter to reflect that.

Loki couldn’t remember ever feeling quite so content before, at least not since he was a young child. It was odd to have friends who valued him for himself and not because he was Thor’s brother. He supposed that that was still true in a way, since they were originally Thor’s friends, but they never made him _feel_ that way. They sought him out when he was apart from Thor, made him feel included when they were all together, and encouraged him to spar and train with them, both for his own benefit and so that they could have practice against a magic user.

Those sparring sessions—initially fraught with tension because even though he trusted them, he was handing them skills that could be used against him—led to having company for feasts and other gatherings. In turn, those led to invitations into the city for nothing more than evenings filled with entertainment, which became invitations into excursions outside the city. Loki sometimes found himself in the middle of a hunt, wondering when his life had taken such a sudden turn and amazed that he found himself enjoying it so much.

The cynical part of him, the one that had been nurtured through years of being an outcast, kept expecting the charade to end. Surely the novelty of his presence would wear off and the others would see they didn’t really want him around. But with every passing day where that didn’t happen, with each inclusion into an activity, it was easier to ignore that voice and accept what his friends said at face value.

In time, he eventually began to anticipate being invited out, so it was no great surprise when Fandral swung by his rooms one evening and invited Loki to join him and Thor for a night in the city. He agreed readily, acquiesced to Fandral’s request that he dress in non-descript clothes, and headed out at Fandral’s side to find Thor waiting for them.

Thor started visibly when he saw them, and swung his gaze to Fandral, brows rising in question. “You invited Loki?”

“Yes,” Fandral replied with a wide, ready grin. “I thought he might… _enjoy_ tonight’s activities.”

Thor frowned and Loki found himself bristling at the unexpected disapproval, especially from _Thor_. Since this whole thing had begun, Thor had yet to express any reluctance in having Loki join them. “Why?” he cut in. “Is there some reason you don’t want me around?”

“No, no,” Thor said quickly, holding up his hands. “It’s not that at all. I just, um, wasn’t expecting Fandral to bring anyone else.”

Loki frowned suspiciously at his brother. Thor _sounded_ sincere, and he certainly looked guilty at having given the wrong impression. He pursed his lips for a moment and then shook his head. “If you don’t want me to come….”

“No, I do! Don’t go, Loki. I’m sorry, I want you to join us.” He cast a look out a window. “And we should probably get going. Come on.”

As cryptic as Thor’s words and actions were, Loki let them pass without comment, instead joining the conversation about small, everyday affairs. The trip into the city didn’t take long, and Loki, expecting to be led to one of the inns or taverns they usually frequented, as taken aback when both of the other men turned in a different direction without discussion, both obviously knowing what their destination already was. Loki followed quietly behind. There was no point in asking where they were going when he would see for himself soon enough.

Their destination turned out to be a large, well-appointed building. There were no signs that he could see and judging from the exterior, it appeared to be of significantly higher class than any tavern they’d been to before. Thor led the way, opening the door and stepping inside with easy familiarity. Loki brought up the rear, closing the door firmly behind him and then taking a look around.

Ah.

Around the room were the familiar rough-clad warriors and the smell of ale and the serving wenches. But what really caught Loki’s eye and gave away the true nature of the place were the scantily-clad women draped over said men. Loki raised an eyebrow at tossed Thor an amused look. “Really, Brother? You hesitated to bring me to a house of pleasure?”

“You’re my little brother,” Thor muttered. “It seemed…wrong to…to….”

“To corrupt me?” Loki finished, still amused. “I’m hardly innocent, Thor. Did you think I might not want to accompany you?”

“Don’t laugh,” Thor said peevishly. “I have no idea if you’ve lain with a woman yet and I didn’t want you to feel…pressured.”

Loki did laugh at that. “I appreciate your concern, but I have to lose my ‘innocence’ at some point, don’t you think?”

Thor made a frustrated sound and raked his hand through his hair. He looked around quickly and then grabbed Loki’s arm, yanking him off to the side. “Loki, I mean it. I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with. Just because you’re here with us doesn’t obligate you to…” he gestured helplessly, “participate or anything.”

“And if I want to?” Loki asked archly.

“Then by all means do. Enjoy as many of them as you like. But, Loki, may I ask… _is_ this your first time?”

Loki’s cheeks flushed at the question. It had been one thing to tease his brother, another to lay bare before him the fact that Loki had never been intimate with anyone. The concern Thor showed was appreciated, but not the embarrassment that came with it. He drew away from his brother, straightening his spine and shoulders. “I fail to see how that’s any of your business.”

The expression on Thor’s face softened. “I’m not making fun of you, you know. I ask because if it is, then there are some choices that are better than others.”

“Are you really going to advise me on my choice of whore?” Loki asked in disbelief.

Thor looked hurt. “Don’t be so harsh, Loki. They’re all good girls.”

“And you would know?”

Finally fed up with Loki’s comments, Thor poked him in the chest. “I know what you’re doing. Stop it.” He smiled. “I promise I won’t tell a soul. Come on. We’ll see if Lisbeth is available.”

Lisbeth turned out to be a petite, slender girl, with long reddish-blonde hair and clear gray eyes. She seemed far less aggressive than many of the other women Loki could see and greeted him with a shy smile. There was something about her mannerisms that set him at ease, and he realized that it was the way she waited for cues from him before making a move.

She gave him a few minutes to settle himself, and then slipped her tiny hand into his—and his own hand had never felt as large as it did right then, swallowing hers up—and led him upstairs to a room. Resisting the urge to look back at Thor one last time, Loki let her close and lock the door. He stood awkwardly in the center of the room, wondering how he should proceed when she turned back, that little smile on her lips once more, though there was a touch of coyness to it now. Lisbeth crossed the room to him, reached up on her tiptoes to draw his head down, and kissed him softly, gently.

“Relax,” she murmured, drawing his arms around her. “Let me take care of you.”

~*~

In the aftermath of their trip to the brothel, Loki had expected some form of teasing from his brother. But Thor had just asked him if he’d enjoyed himself and if he would like to be included in future visits. Loki said yes to both questions, and joined in when Thor laughed easily at the eagerness in his voice. It was a relief to know that his brother understood his insecurities enough not to needle him about it.

 _Of course, I should have known that,_ Loki reflected to himself, on yet another day when Thor had wandered into his room after training and collapsed his sweaty, dirty bulk next to Loki, unmindful of whatever Loki was trying to do. Loki edged away from his brother, wrinkling his nose.

“I fail to understand what you find to appealing about that.”

“About what?” Thor asked with a raised eyebrow.

“About getting yourself so filthy. And, honestly, would it be that difficult to throw bucket or two of water over yourself before you came here and avoid getting your mess all over my things?”

Thor laughed, but moved away from Loki, sprawling out over the cold marble floor and sighing. “It makes me feel alive,” he said suddenly after a few moments of silence.

“What?”

“You asked why I like it. It’s because it makes me feel alive. I can feel my heart pounding, my blood rushing through my veins, the air in my lungs and the sweat on my brow. I feel strong and invincible and…and alive….” His voice had picked up strength as he spoke, bright with passion, and Loki was stunned at the unexpected eloquence from his brother. And then his voice had trailed away in embarrassment at the end and he looked away.

“I can understand that,” Loki offered quietly.

Thor twisted his head back around to look at him. “And you, Loki? Do you ever feel like that when you use your magic?”

Loki nodded slowly, thinking of the endless hours he’d spent suspended in midair, his domain the very breath of Asgard itself. “Yes, though not all the time. There are certain things that are more…invigorating than others.”

“Show me?”

A child’s request in a man’s voice and perfectly serious. Loki shrugged, set his book down, and headed toward his balcony. Behind him, he heard Thor scrambling to his feet. Effortlessly, he hopped onto the balustrade, balancing on the narrow edge and then turning back to face Thor.

“Loki?” his brother asked, face creased in worry. Loki merely smiled mischeviously, spread his arms out wide and let himself fall backward.

“ _Loki_!” He heard his brother’s scream as he changed and felt a pang of guilt. Thor didn’t know Loki was never in any danger and had probably just thought he’d watched his brother throw himself to his death at his request. The wind whipped past his face as he shape-shifted, and he was glad he’d mastered the art of shifting his clothes with him, or the ones he was wearing would have been lost, probably to be found by a very confused peasant. He twisted in midair, his wings snapping up to catch an updraft and bring him back up the balcony, where a white-faced Thor peered over the edge, clutching the stone in bloodless hands.

Thor startled back from the edge when Loki flew up, delicately settling onto the railing and tucking his wings against his body. Then he came forward, staring in open wonder as he stared at Loki.

“Loki?” he breathed. “Is that really you?”

Loki bobbed his head and Thor let out a delighted laugh. He reached out a hand and hesitated a few inches away. “May I?”

With a gentle touch, Thor stroked his fingers tentatively over the soft feathers of Loki’s breast. In the years since his father had first shown him this magic, Loki had settled on a different preferred form. Unlike the great eagle Odin used, Loki felt right in the body of a smaller hawk, dark gray feathers along his back, a gray and white striped chest and dark red eyes. Odin’s eagle was useful for power, but Loki preferred the speed and maneuverability of his hawk.

Then his brother held his hand out, fist curled loosely in front of Loki’s feet. Loki eyed the hand suspiciously for a moment and then carefully stepped onto the offered appendage, taking care not to drive his talons into his brother’s soft flesh. Thor raised him up, so that they were eye to eye and laughed again, delighted. “This is…. Brother, you are _magnificent_.”

Embarrassed, Loki twisted his head away, glad that this form could not blush. Odin was the only one who had ever seen him in a form like this, and Loki had been hesitant to show anyone else, lest they think him less of an Aesir than he already was. The jotnar might be reviled, but they could still be called men. Loki didn’t think revealing himself as an animal would endear himself to anyone.

Thor stroked his head again and Loki leaned into the pressure, earning another soft huff of laughter. They stayed like that for a long time before Thor asked, “Could I see you fly?”

Loki considered the idea for a moment and then bobbed his head again. Thor turned so that they were facing out, and Loki felt the muscles in his arm tense. Then with a sudden burst of movement, Thor threw his hand up and Loki launched himself, feeling his talons dig slightly into Thor’s hand as he took off.

He beat his wings, gaining altitude before leveling them out and gliding down in lazy spirals. Again and again he repeated the action, not even paying attention to Thor, too lost in the joy of flight, the thrill and rush that had never gotten old.

A sharp whistle called his attention back, blinking at the horizon and realizing that the sun had begun to set. He screamed once in acknowledgement and headed back for his room. He swooped inside and down onto the floor, blurring back into his own shape once he landed. He stretched, settling bones and muscles and turned as Thor came back inside.

“Does that satisfy your curiosity, Brother?” he asked.

Thor grinned. “The only thing better would have been if I could have joined you.”

Loki hesitated and then sighed. “It is not easy seidr. You _could_ work it if you devoted yourself to it, but it’s very difficult.”

Rueful, Thor shook his head. “No, Loki. I appreciate the thought, but I’m not suited for such things, as wonderful as they are.” He paused. “You could tell the others, you know. They would be impressed.”

Loki considered it for a moment. “No, I don’t think so. It’s something I would like to keep just for me.”

“Fair enough.” He reached up to scratch his head and then grimaced. “I think your earlier observation that I needed a bath is even more apt now. I’m going to get cleaned up. Mother will have a fit if I show up at dinner like this.”

With a laugh, Loki waved his brother away. “Off with you then.” Thor threw him a wave and left quickly. Loki threw one last longing look at the window and then headed for his own bath chamber to freshen up.

~*~

The idea began to grow on him slowly. It came to him one day when Odin had taken them all with him on a trip to Vanaheim and he watched the customary exchange of gifts. Such a simple thing, gift-giving, a way to express gratitude and respect. Growing up, Loki had wanted for nothing material, but still enjoyed the little, special things his family had given him simply because they knew it brought him pleasure.

Why shouldn’t he do the same thing for those important to him now? For Thor, who ultimately proved himself unbelievingly loyal. For Volstagg and Hogun, who had saved his life. For Fandral, who had slipped in and taught him how to talk to and charm people with even better results than Thor. For Sif, who had always been the most understanding of them and who still caused a pang of guilt in Loki whenever he saw her dark hair.

Mundane gifts wouldn’t do. No, if he were to show his appreciation, they had to be worthy for him to give. He poked around Asgard, among the artisans and craftsmen, but he was dissatisfied with what he found in one way or another. What he wanted would not be found in this realm. If he sought truly worthy gifts, he would need to go to those who were the masters of their craft.

He would have to go to the dwarves. To Svartalfheim.

It took longer to plan out the details than it did to come up with the idea. He couldn’t just ask to use the Bifrost to go to Svartalfheim, and even if his father gave permission he most certainly wouldn’t let Loki go alone. That left using the magic he’d been exploring, the spells that would allow him to slip along the hidden pathways between Yggdrasil’s branches. He’d already practiced using them in Asgard itself and then expanded to trial runs to friendly realms first before attempting to go to Svartalfheim.

Once he was certain there would be no mistake or accidents, he waited for his chance to slip away. When there seemed to be a lull in activity around the palace, he simply mentioned that he was quite engrossed in his current research and that he didn’t wish to be disturbed. Then he tucked his accumulated coin in a pack and stole away from his chambers.

Keeping himself cloaked from sight with his magic, he carefully reached out for those dark, hidden paths between Yggdrasil’s branches. It was trickier than the Bifrost and he had to focus and concentrate, but the paths allowed him to go where he wanted, unseen and undetected. Once he’d slipped through to Svartalfheim, he made his way among the dwarves, searching for one of sufficient skill to help him. It took him a few tries to get one of them to agree once he did reveal himself, and he ended up by the side of one named Eitri.

Once they began negotiations, it became very clear why people didn’t flock to buy their wares, even though the dwarves were the most skilled in the nine realms. They charged a hefty fee for their services. In the end, Loki managed to haggle Eitri down enough to get something each for Sif and the Warriors Three. For Sif, new hair of shimmering gold to replace the locks he’d shorn long ago. For Volstagg, a simple pouch enchanted to give him whatever food he wanted to eat most when he reached in. For Fandral, a sword, fantastically light, exceptionally balanced and ever-sharp. And for Hogun, a shirt of mail stronger than steel and as light and maneuverable as fine silk.

Loki regretted that his purse wasn’t large enough to stretch to cover something for Thor and his parents. But there would be time for them later and he did not think they would be insulted.

He returned a several times over the next few days, needing to go back to Asgard before anyone noticed his absence entirely, but he spent a lot of time watching Eitri work, intrigued by the way the dwarf wove magic and metal together. And that’s where he was, perched nearby and watching Eitri craft the items when he heard a derisive snort from beside him.

“I could to better than that blindfolded,” the dwarf next to him muttered.

“If that were the case, Brokk, you’d have taken the lad up on his offer,” Eitri replied without even looking up.

“He offered a pittance for my skills. And that was before I knew what you’d be making for him. It’s not right to put our name on something so unworthy.”

Loki looked over at the sneering dwarf. “And you think you could do better?”

“I don’t think, I know. My skills far surpass Eitri’s.”

Loki cocked his head to the side, an idea springing to mind. “Would you care to make a wager, then?”

Brokk looked at him suspiciously. “What kind of wager?”

“You craft something as well and we’ll have the people as Asgard judge whose creations are the best. If I win, I get to keep what you make for free.”

“And what if I win? What do I get?”

Loki thought for a moment. “What do you want?”

Brokk smiled and Loki felt a shiver of trepidation run through him. That was _not_ a pleasant expression. “You seem confident, so you should be willing to risk much. If I win…I’ll take your head as my prize.”

Shocked, Loki sucked in a sharp breath. It was one thing to make a bet, it was another to wager his life.

“Unless you’re afraid,” Brokk said, shrugging.

“I’m not afraid!” Loki snapped. He rubbed his chin, trying to think of something to give him an advantage. “Fine. But you must complete them in the time that Eitri does. And I want three gifts, for Odin, Frigga and Thor.”

“Done then,” Brokk said immediately, and clasped Loki’s arm in his to seal the bargain.

The immediacy of Brokk’s acceptance sent a stab of dread though Loki’s gut, and he turned back to watch Eitri work, feeling that he’d just made a mistake and hoping that Brokk wouldn’t be able to complete his work in time.

~*~

Thor had known his brother was up to something, though he suspected most others did not. As children, he’d always been able to spot the furtive look on Loki’s face that revealed when he was up to something, and though they were now grown and Loki had become much better at hiding it, Thor could still catch that familiar expression. The last few days had been no exception. He didn’t see Loki much, his brother caught up with something and not wanting company, but Thor recognized the half-truth and waited to see what would come of it.

What he didn’t expect was Loki entering the throne room after Odin had just finished hearing petitions, a dwarf at his side, each weighed down by burdens. Their appearance attracted the attention of everyone in the hall and a ripple of murmurs followed their progress as they made their way to the bottom of the dais upon which Odin’s throne sat.

Odin raised an eyebrow as the two set their respective burdens down, but said nothing. Loki cleared his throat. “Father, I’ve come bearing gifts. And a wager of sorts.”

“Go on,” Odin replied after a moment.

“It’s quite simple, really. I have the items crafted for me and Brokk has his. Whose are superior are for you to judge.” He gestured to the people around the room, smiling widely.

“And what is this wager?”

Loki shrugged. “Nothing much. Come, let us show you what we’ve brought.” He crouched and began to remove items from his bundle.

Thor ignored the items for the moment, focusing on his brother instead. From the excited talking around the room, he doubted anyone else had noted the way Loki’s smile had dimmed slightly when the wager was mentioned, and he knew no one else noticed the way Loki’s hands fluttered the way they always did when he was nervous.

The crowd exclaimed over each gift as it was presented by Loki to their recipients, his brother almost shy as he handed over each one. The weapons and armor garnering the most praise as Fandral and Hogun accepted them. Sif’s hair earned envious looks from the ladies of the court, for not even the most magnificent head of hair could compare to locks made of _gold_. The magical pouch for Volstagg garnered much laughter, but Thor could see how pleased his friend was with his gift.

His gifts presented, Loki stood back to allow Brokk his turn. The first gift was for Frigga, a delicate necklace, finely wrought and imbued to keep her from all harm. The second was for Frigga as well, a ring of gold that appeared to be no more than a bauble but for its ability to copy itself every nine days. The third gift was given to Odin, a gleaming spear with a wicked point. “Gungnir,” Brokk said. “It will never miss its mark, and will pierce cleanly through anything.”

Odin accepted the spear, exchanging it for his usual staff, and sat back, looking even more regal than before. Thor stole a quick look at Loki, who was a bit pale, but didn’t seem all that concerned yet. As impressive as Gungnir was, Thor would have said that Loki’s gifts were still the finer of the two sets.

Then Brokk smirked and reached into his bag for his last gift. He paused before he drew it out, looking around, letting the anticipation draw out until he finally slipped the object free. A hammer, beautifully crafted, its head heavy and squared off with runes etched along its sides. The only flaw Thor could see was its oddly short, leather wrapped handle.

“Mjolnir,” Brokk said into the silence of the hall. “Unbreakable. Unstoppable. It can only be lifted by one worthy to wield it and it will always return to his hand.” He stepped forward and handed it to Thor, who accepted it with reverent hands.

It was incredibly light and he gave it a short swing to test its feel in his hand. It felt right in his grip, and Thor smiled at the remembered desire to always have a weapon that would come back to him when thrown. He looked up as the crowd began to chatter, intending to give his thanks, when he caught sight of Loki.

His brother’s face was a sickly shade of pale and when he met Thor’s gaze, Thor could clearly see the panic and fear in his green orbs. Clearly, he knew Brokk’s treasures were better than his and was afraid of losing the bet.

Just _what_ had Loki wagered?

Brokk stepped back once he’d delivered his last treasure, the smirk still firmly in place on his face. Loki turned his face stoically forward, but his eyes kept darting to Thor.

“Well,” Odin’s voice rumbled through the room, “truly this has been a day of wonders. You are each to be commended on what you’ve brought you’ve brought before us. But I believed there was the matter of a wager to settle?”

Odin hesitated, looking out over the room. Clearly, he had also caught Loki’s despair and was seeking a way to help his youngest son. Finally, he turned to Thor. “My son, you received one of the gifts today. What say you?”

Thor looked carefully at his brother and then at Brokk and then finally down to the hammer that sat so right in his hand. He hefted Mjolnir experimentally and considered the choice before him. Without a doubt in his mind, it was the greatest treasure produced today. But his brother was by far more important than any weapon.

“Mjolnir is indeed an impressive weapon. I would be proud to wield it.” Brokk’s smile grew and turned nasty, and Thor sensed the crowd shifting to support him. “But,” he said quietly and instantly the hall stilled, hanging on the word. “But,” he repeated, “the handle _is_ a bit short, as you must know.”

Gravely, he shook his head, playing up his indecision. “Master Brokk, as much as I love Mjolnir, I must confess that I find the gifts Loki gave to the others to be both more fitting and…finished. I’m sorry, but I believe Loki should be the winner here.”

Loki’s eyes were huge in his face. He knew—he had to know—that Thor lied and the reason why he did so. He closed his eyes for a long moment, relief breaking over his face.

The people in the hall tittered, torn between going with the obvious choice or defying their crown prince’s stated opinion.

“I agree!” Fandral’s voice rang out. “My sword is clearly much better balanced than your hammer, Thor! A pity, but I too must say I prefer my gift to yours.” He turned to Loki, bowing floridly. “My thanks, Your Highness.”

That was enough to tip the crowd, and though a good number still supported Brokk, the majority sided with Loki. Snarling, Brokk cursed loudly and protested the decision. Smoothly, Odin plied him with compliments and platitudes, but what they were, Thor didn’t know for he was too busy watching Loki slip past the crowd and out the doors. He followed quickly, hurrying after Loki as he retreated down a hall.

He found Loki leaning against a wall around a corner, head buried in shaking hands. “Loki?” he asked. “Are you all—”

He was cut off by Loki catching him in a fierce, bone-crushing hug. “Thank you,” he gasped into Thor’s shoulder.

“Easy, Loki,” Thor soothed him, easing his own arms around his brother and holding him until he stopped shaking. When Loki was finally still, he pulled back. “What did you wager anyway?”

Loki’s mouth twisted. “My head,” he whispered.

“Your head?” Thor gaped at him. “You cannot be serious!”

“Oh, but I am.”

“Loki…. Loki, that was a _stupid_ thing to do!”

“I know!” Loki snapped. “I know. I just…got so caught up in it that I didn’t think it through correctly. I would have never believed that Brokk could accomplish what he did in so little time.”

Light-headed with shock and relief, Thor clutched his brother. “You could have died! Again! Don’t ever do that again, do you hear me? Loki, never again!”

“I hear you, I hear you. I won’t.” He looked up, his expression painfully raw and unguarded. “And truly, thank you.” Loki touched the hammer’s head with wondering fingers. “It really is an incredible weapon.”

“I would rather have you by my side over any weapon,” Thor insisted fiercely.

Loki opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Instead, he drew a shuddering breath and stepped back, out of Thor’s hold. “I think I should rest now. I’m feeling quite drained all of a sudden.”

“Go,” Thor said. “Rest.”

“Don’t tell Mother and Father. Please.”

“I won’t,” Thor promised. “I’ll make something up if I have to. Go. I’ll see you later.”

Loki nodded tiredly and stumbled down the hall until he was out of sight. Thor stood rooted in his spot for a while longer, collecting himself until he felt ready to face people once more, vowing silently to himself to not reveal how foolish his brother had been.

~*~

In the wake of Loki’s excursion to Svartalfheim, Odin decided it would be better if his sons got more experience exploring the realms on their own in a more _official_ capacity. Ostensibly, it was to give Thor the chance to visit the other realms he would someday rule and meet the people he would be responsible for. The unofficial reason was to give Thor and Loki the chance to explore without causing any diplomatic incidents. Their parents had eventually discovered what Loki had risked, of course, and decided that Loki’s torment had been punishment enough.

It was an exciting time, exploring the realms with his brother and his friends by his side, seeing incredible sights, testing their skills against impressive foes, enjoying the lavish attention that was showered upon them. They were princes at home and were always addressed as such, but there was a great deal of difference between their life at home and the respect given to them in the other realms.

And of all the other realms, Thor found that he enjoyed Vanaheim the most, the Vanir being exquisite hosts and seemingly dedicated to pleasing their gusts. He didn’t feel the least bit guilty in taking advantage of what was freely offered.

Thor reclined on the couch, the girl who’d led him there draping herself over him. Placing his hands on her slender thighs where they bracketed his hips, he slid them up, the feel of supple flesh and skin-warmed silk pleasant as he explored her. She sighed into his touch, moving to arch into his hands as he skated his fingers up over her ribs and to her breasts. She leaned down to brush his lips teasingly with hers and then bent further still to kiss and nip along his jaw and neck. Then her fingers fluttered against the length of his hard cock, still trapped in his pants, and he groaned.

The mead they’d drunk, the warmth of the room, and the soft sounds of others engaging in the same acts around him made his head swim, blurring everything in a pleasant haze. His limbs felt heavy, his fingers clumsy, so while the girl moved over him, divesting them both of their garments, he let his head fall back and to the side, looking around with unseeing eyes at the rest of the room.

He’d later blame his state for what happened next, but at the moment, he was unaware of what was going to happen. As his head lolled gently, he caught sight of his brother. Loki was nestled in a pile of cushions, a dark-haired girl under him. They were both naked and clearly further along than Thor was. He watched, entranced, as his brother moved, pale, naked skin flushed and damp with sweat.

He shouldn’t be looking, shouldn’t be watching the tense and flex of Loki’s muscles as he moved. It was wrong to intrude on the private moment—for all that they were surrounded by others—and even more wrong to feel the surge of lust at seeing his brother’s cock emerge from the thatch of dark hair between the girl’s thighs.

It was chance that saved him, the girl above him wrapping her fingers around his cock at the same moment Thor moaned at the sight of his brother. With effort, he tore his gaze away, trying to focus on the nameless girl above him—why didn’t he know her name? It seemed like something he should know before he had sex with her—but she stroked him, and the question flew out of his head.

Thor tried to keep his gaze on her. It was wrong, _wrong_ to want to look back over at his brother. Instead, he filled his vision with pink skin and round breasts, full red lips and honey blonde hair. He moved out of instinct, thrusting and gripping without fully being aware of what he was doing. Despite his best effort, he couldn’t keep his gaze focused on the girl. He kept turning his head to look, hiding what he was doing by sucking and biting lovemarks into the girl’s neck and shoulder.

He was doing that, blue eyes devouring Loki’s form while he mouthed at the girl’s shoulder, when his brother came, and the sight of it stole Thor’s breath.

Loki was _beautiful_.

Never before had he thought that about his brother, let alone another man. But it was true. The long, clean lines of Loki’s body, whipcord muscle standing out under the creamy skin, the arched column of his neck as he threw it back, his mouth, thin, clever lips and tongue falling open in a cry. The only thing to mar it was his eyes, squeezed tight against the onslaught of ecstasy.

 _Open your eyes, Brother_ , Thor thought. _Let me see you._

And as if Loki heard him, he did. Thor was too far away to see much, but the flash of green as Loki looked down at his partner was enough. Thor came with a hoarse cry of his own, biting down as he surged up into the girl in his arms. He tensed, shuddered and finally collapsed back onto the couch, vaguely aware of the girl moving and then her own quiet cries of completion.

The girl sunk down, and Thor shifted them onto their sides to make them both more comfortable. She nestled her head beneath his chin and his position let him look at Loki, now curled around the other girl and slumbering peacefully.

He shouldn’t be doing this. In the back of his mind, below the haze of pleasure and alcohol, he knew it was wrong. They were brothers, and he loved Loki. This…this perverted want could only harm him, and Thor wouldn’t let that happen. He would ignore the surge of desire, purge it from his mind, and make sure Loki never found it.

It didn’t stop him from dreaming he was in the place of the girl below his brother, though.


	10. Chapter 10

As soon as their party made it back to Asgard, Loki begged off from any activity the others wanted to engage in, pleading tiredness and a need to rest. And then once farewells had been said, he fled, striding back to his room at a pace that wasn’t quite running, but fast enough to dissuade anyone from attempting to stop him.   
  
Once in his rooms, he shut the doors, locked them, and then added his own magic to ensure that everyone else stayed out. His father might be able to force his way in with his own magic, but Loki was confident that he would not and that there was no one else capable of breaking through his spells. He took a moment to sag against the doors and then turned and stumbled into the bath chamber, falling against the long marble counter. Bracing himself on shaky arms, he looked up into the mirror.  
  
What was  wrong with him to have reacted the way he did in Vanaheim? One moment he was lost in a haze of pleasure, slightly uncomfortable with the public aspect of the orgy, but enjoying himself nonetheless, and the next he was listening to his brother moan. He shouldn’t have been able to pick those sounds out from the other noises in the room, but he knew Thor’s presence almost better than his own. He could be blind and deaf and still be able to tell when Thor entered a room.  
  
He shouldn’t have been able to hear, but he did. And it had caught his attention, pulled his gaze up to watch as the girl on top of Thor writhed and bucked. He’d hated her at that moment, wanted nothing more than to shove her off of Thor’s body. It had been insane, the sudden surge of jealous rage, and he still wasn’t sure what had come over him. All that he did know was that the illicit, forbidden fantasy of being the one to drag those sounds out of Thor had brought him to one of the strongest orgasms he’d known.  
  
With a low moan, Loki scrubbed his hands over his face. Was it because of what he was? Had the monster that lurked beneath his skin finally made itself known in this terrible, humiliating way? He examined his face in the glass. He still looked the same as he always had, if a bit pale and tired.  
  
Loki closed his eyes. He couldn’t ever let this get out. The consequences were too terrible to be born. If he’d thought the people of Asgard had looked down on him before, it would be a thousand times worse if this...this  perversion became known. Even the brief thought of going to his parents was quickly rejected. How could they ever bear to look at him again if they knew this about him? No, he would keep this a secret, locked up tight within him. No matter how he felt, he could never let anyone know.  
  
Especially Thor.  
  
Shoving himself away from the counter, he cursed under his breath and staggered back into his room to collapse face down on his bed. How could he do this to Thor? His brother, who’d proved himself over and over again, deserved better than this. This was poor repayment for everything he’d done for Loki.  
  
The only thing to do was ignore it and hope it went away. Perhaps it had merely been a product of the situation, so highly charged with sex and pleasure. Maybe in such a setting he’d instinctively sought out the person for whom he bore the most affection. He hoped that was all it had been. For now, some distance between them would be a good start in putting it behind him. He had plenty of research to throw himself into, keep himself busy until this passed.  
  
Yes, that was the answer. Time, distance, and perhaps some pleasure far from Thor’s presence would prove to be the cure.  
  
It had to be.  


~*~

When next Thor or their friends came by to ask him to join them, Loki politely declined. He didn’t avoid dinners or feasts, but he neatly avoided any private interaction outside of a handful of conversations that couldn’t be dodged. Sif, Fandral, Volstagg and Hogun all seemed a little curious at his reluctance to join them, but nonplussed at the continued rejections. Nor did his parents seem to think anything out of the ordinary. The only one who was visibly troubled by the change in his behavior was Thor.  
  
Often, he caught his brother sneaking worried glances at him, asking after him with more concern than he’d ever shown before. Loki reassured Thor again and again that everything was fine, going on about the research he was doing—and he actually was doing research and experimenting—in an attempt to ease his concern. At best, Thor seemed doubtful, at worst, his look was blatantly disbelieving.  
  
Eventually, Thor would not be put off. He finally managed to corner Loki one night just outside his bedroom. Loki could have ignored his brother and slipped inside, but that would only have deepened Thor’s suspicions. So he forced a smile on his face and faced his brother.  
  
“Is everything all right, Loki?” Thor asked.  
  
“Of course. You keep asking, but the answer’s not going to change.”  
  
Thor frowned, the expression hurt and confused. “You...you haven’t been yourself lately.”  
  
“I assure you, Thor, I’m fine. I really just want to study this.”  
  
Thor nodded, but didn’t seem convinced, carefully studying a spot on the wall just past Loki’s ear. After a few long moments, Loki was ready to bid him goodnight and disappear into his room when Thor shifted uncomfortably, gaze meeting Loki’s for a brief moment before darting away. “This...this isn’t because of Vanaheim, is it? What happened there?”  
  
Loki froze. No. No. Panic flooded through Loki sharp and his stomach dropped. He’d tried to be careful, and it had all been for naught. Thor knew and he was trying to be kind and understanding. Loki bit back a hysterical laugh. No, he couldn’t admit it. He just couldn’t. Instead, he tried to give a quizzical expression. “I don’t know what you mean.”  
  
Sighing in frustration, Thor gestured wildly. “You’ve been different since we came back. You don’t want to spend any time with us at all and I don’t understand it. Did...did something happen?”  
  
“Nothing happened, Thor,” Loki insisted.  
  
“Are you sure?” Thor kept pressing his concern, and he was so earnest that Loki almost felt guilty for lying. “Loki, I know that you’re a private person, and what happened there isn’t what you’re used to, but...but no one...pressured you to do anything you didn’t want to, did they?”  
  
Relief flooded through Loki so suddenly that he felt dizzy with it. That was it?  That  was the cause for Thor’s concern? He thought Loki had been forced to participate in the orgy, either by someone or by the circumstances they found themselves in? He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped, relieved and free. Thor  didn’t know. Thor didn’t know and Loki could be in his presence without being overcome by any sudden surge of lust.  
  
If Thor was startled by the laughter, it wasn’t for long. He smiled tentatively at Loki, his expression hopeful. Loki reached out to punch him lightly on the arm. “I am fine,” he chuckled. “Really, Thor,  that was what you were worried about?”  
  
Rubbing the back of his neck and ducking his head to hide a fierce blush, Thor shrugged. “I know you, Brother. I should have known better than to draw you into a situation like that. I was just concerned you might have felt obligated to...participate when you didn’t want to.”  
  
“Had I wanted to leave,” Loki said dryly, “I could have at any time. Perhaps it wasn’t my usual indulgence, but I enjoyed myself Thor. Have no fear about that.”  
  
Thor’s smile was more genuine then. “Good. I just had to be sure. You’ll rejoin us soon? I find I miss your sharp and biting tongue.”  
  
Loki did not read into that statement. “Yes, soon. You have my word.”  
  
Thor nodded. “Good enough for me then.” He clapped Loki on the shoulder. “Good luck in your efforts, then, and I hope you finish quickly.”  
  
Watching him walk away, Loki was struck by something that everyone else in Asgard had already noticed—that his brother, when happy and confident, was really quite attractive. He sighed inwardly. So that dark attraction wasn’t exactly gone, but it was manageable. And since Thor had no idea, it wouldn’t be hard to hide it from him. Thor was a little too open, a little too honest to see the dark things people kept hidden below the surface. And though it pained Loki to conceal this, it was for Thor’s benefit—for both of their benefits—and he could protect his brother from this at least.  


~*~

Thor could barely conceal his relief after his talk with Loki. He’d been so afraid that his brother had noticed him, had seen him watching and that that was the cause of his withdrawal. The reason he’d spoken to Loki was also a valid concern, but had only come to him after much searching for other reasons Loki seemed to be avoiding them.  
  
But Loki’s response, so candid and true, had laid to rest his fears. Loki didn’t know and as long as Thor didn’t do anything stupid, like tell him, he would never know. What happened on Vanaheim was still his secret and no one knew of it. Things could go on as they had been. He hadn’t ruined everything.  
  
That still left the uncomfortable situation he’d been grappling with since the orgy. He’d grown up surrounded by men, watching them practice and train. Once he was old enough, he’d joined them. During all that time, he’d never paid much attention to the various states of undress he encountered. They were all comrades, brothers-in-arms, and there was no need for embarrassment or self-consciousness between them.  But ever since Vanaheim, ever since seeing Loki like that, Thor had found himself hyperaware of the men around him.  
  
It shouldn’t be any different, he told himself repeatedly. Yet he found his gaze repeatedly snared by men with their tunics cast aside to wrestle, or clothing stripped away entirely as they washed away the day’s accumulated grit and grime. He was quick to rip his attention away, and he was sure that no one had yet noticed, but he couldn’t deny that he seemed to have developed a strange fascination.  
  
That much of an admission sat uneasily with him, rang false in a way he wasn’t ready to confront yet. True, he’d never paid much attention before, but he was beginning to suspect that that had been because he’d been deliberately avoided looking.  
  
Admiring another man, the way he looked and moved, outside of a fighting context simply wasn’t done. Acting on that was verboten. Thor wasn’t stupid. He knew there were those who engaged in such practices, who flouted all things decent and moral to indulge their sin. They were deviants, corrupt and unwholesome, and it was well that they kept their silence and didn’t flout their aberration before decent people. That was the way things should be.  
  
Except Thor was beginning to suspect he was one of those men.  
  
With the concern about Loki knowing taken care of, he was now left to come to with this revelation, that there was something  wrong with him. He couldn’t ever indulge this strange, perverted desire,  wouldn’t ever indulge it, but he was terrified someone would find out nonetheless.  
  
For days, weeks, he avoided thinking about it, forcing himself to be normal and act correctly and do nothing that might cast suspicion on him. There were times when he thought he failed, when a chance comment or question from his family or friends made him worried that he’d somehow given himself away. Somehow, he always managed to answer or placate them without provoking any further prying.  
  
But each time he breathed a sigh of relief, he knew he was running out of time to deal with this. If he didn’t manage to find a way to erase—or at least reconcile—what he wanted with what he knew to be right, he was going to tear himself apart. With that in mind, he waited until he had a day free of all obligations, saddled his horse, and dodging the palace guard and his friends, rode out by himself.  
  
Thor didn’t put much thought into where he was going, simply letting the stallion choose their course and enjoying the feel of the sun and wind of his skin, the freedom of being alone. He wasn’t surprised when his horse eventually turned off into a wide meadow to graze. Chuckling, he took the reins again, urging the horse on to see if they could find a stream. There wasn’t likely to be anything in the meadow, but perhaps there would be inside the forest that bordered it. If not, he would ride on a bit further until they came to village or hamlet where they could rest.  
  
As he guided the stallion down the slope to the trees, something about his surroundings jogged his memory and he reined his horse to a halt, looking around. So very familiar, but why...? Then it came to him. This was the same place he and Loki had become lost in as children, when they’d wandered off without regard for who might worry about him. Thor grinned at the memory of the adventure, of the two of them climbing trees and roughhousing without a care in the world. The grin faded as he recalled what had happened when they’d been found and returned. That had been the first time their father had punished Loki in Thor’s stead and they had been aware of the consequences, the first time Thor’s actions had knowingly led to Loki being hurt instead of protecting him like a big brother was supposed to do.  
  
Knowing there was water nearby, Thor guided his horse into the trees until he heard the sound of rushing water. At the stream, he slipped his horse’s bridle free and then hobbled him, so that he could eat and drink what he wanted, but preventing him from wandering off. Then he sat down on a rock, dropped his head into his hands, and tried to think of what he was going to do.  
  
He wanted his brother, that much was clear to him. The shame he felt at such insanity didn’t keep it from being any less true, no matter how much he wanted it to be. Whatever his other desires, this was one thing he could never, ever act on.  
  
That admission seemed to release the barrier that had been holding back his acknowledgment of his other desires. He was attracted to men, and perhaps he always had been. Looking back, he knew that it had to be true, no matter what lies he’d told himself or what he’d refused to admit. The admission simply felt too right to be anything  except the truth. But it was hard to distinguish what he really felt under the layers of lies and half-truths he must have told himself over the years to cope. And he liked women, liked the feel of their soft curves and warm, secret places. He enjoyed the sounds they made, the way their sharp nails would bite into his flesh under the ministrations of his mouth and hands, the feel of his cock buried deep in their welcoming warmth.  
  
Yet he wondered what it would be like with another man, with the feel of sharp bone and hard muscle against him instead of pliant curves. What would it be like to have a lover who matched his strength? To have hands as callused as his own running over his body? To feel the weight of another cock in his hands and pressing against—into—him?  
  
What did that make him? Was it normal—no, it wasn’t normal, he knew that—but was it so strange to feel desire for both sexes? Did others experience the same thing he was experiencing right now? If they did, how did they handle it? Did they spurn one in favor of the other or did they allow themselves to have both?  
  
He could.... Thor drew an unsteady breath and wet his lips nervously. He could have what he wanted. As crown prince, there was nothing that was really denied to him. Granted, he couldn’t announce this before the court, but if he wanted to...to  explore, to see if these desires were true or simply the imaginations born of ignorance and curiosity, he could. He would have to be careful, of course. If he flaunted this to the wrong person, his status wouldn’t protect him from the accusations of  ergi, wouldn’t prevent the shame he would bring to his family  
  
Thor sat for a long time, watching as his horse cropped mouthfuls of the long grass, weighing his options. With his status offering a protection that nearly no one else had, he would be a fool not to take the chance, if that was what he really wanted. And as soon as Thor had finished that thought, his decision was made. He would see if what he felt was real, and if it was real, if it was just a passing fancy or something deeper, something part of himself that could never be excised. And if it was, he would have to learn how to manage it, how to keep it hidden so that it could never hurt those he loved.  
  
That just left the dilemma of how to go about it. He’d heard rumors—who didn’t, with the way gossip wound its way around the court—of houses that catered to such perversions, where one could purchase a boy as easily as a girl and no one would bat an eye or breathe a word. But he had no idea where these houses were or how they could be found. Oh, he was sure that if he made discreet inquiries he could find out, but he wasn’t ready to risk such exposure. He wasn’t sure if he ever would be. But that could hardly be the only way. Surely there were those who arranged assignations without the help of a flesh peddler, those who found pleasure without needing to pay for it. If a woman was what he sought, there were always some to be found in the mead halls and at the feasts, who revealed their interest and desire through glances, touches and whispered words. Were men the same? Were there those who sent the same signals if one simply knew how to read them?  
  
The horse nudged his shoulder, breaking him out of his thoughts. Thor released a shaky laugh and patted it on the neck. “All right, all right, we’ll get going.” Thor undid the hobble and slipped the bridle back over the horse’s head, and then remounted, turning back up the slope and heading for home. He was still unsettled, still not sure if he was making the right decision, but he had to know, if only the end the agony of uncertainty. As for how he was going to do it...well, he would work that out.  
  
Eventually.  


~*~

After gathering everything he thought he might need and carefully packing the supplies into a bag, Loki made his way down to the stables, ruefully musing that sometimes all the magic at his disposal merely served to make his life more difficult. After all, who else expected to find themselves poking about in the straw and the muck to care for an ailing horse?  
  
He frowned. That was...unkind of him. Frigga wouldn’t have asked this of him if she truly had anyone else to go to. And after all, the mare was her favorite horse. She loved the gentle creature so much that Loki sometimes thought he had a sister. Now that the mare was carrying a foal, his mother doted over her even more. When the mare had grown listless and weak, she asked the palace healers for help. And when they’d failed, she’d come to him, upset and distraught, and Loki had promised to do his best.  
  
That didn’t mean he knew the first thing about how to treat a horse. He had spoken to the healers, to the stable hands, to the men who oversaw the breeding. None of them had been able to help, beyond offering their opinion that something was wrong with the foal and they’d be lucky not to lose both creatures. After that, he turned to the library, reading up on animal husbandry for any help that could be found, even if an explanation couldn’t be.  
  
Loki nodded to the groom who greeted him. “How is she today?”  
  
“No change, sir. She’s still weak, but holding on.”  
  
“Very well. Let’s see if I can do any good today.”  
  
The stable hand followed at a respectful distance, slipping into the stall with Loki to hold the mare’s head while Loki set his pack down and then rested his hands on the horse’s distended stomach. Closing his eyes in concentration, he let his magic slip out into the horse, trying to sense what he could. His exam today revealed nothing new. The foal was still struggling, and its weakness was taking a toll on its mother. In all likelihood, it wouldn’t survive its own birth and would probably take its mother with it. Well, Loki would do his best to prevent that.  
  
Without a word, he turned for his pack, pulling out reagents and a spell book. He didn’t normally rely on written spells for his everyday magic, but with something this complicated he wasn’t willing to take the risk. The spells he planned on using were cobbled together from other spells, and their results—if they even worked at all—were still unknown. There was no need to increase the risks because of his pride.  
  
He ignored the quick, indrawn breath of the groom as he began. It was likely the first time the man had ever seen seidr worked, and Loki should have warned him before hand, but he couldn’t spare the moments to reassure him now, not when he’d already begun. Thankfully, the mare didn’t react at all, standing with her feet planted firmly in the straw, head hanging down where the groom held it still.  
  
After a time, Loki sat back on his heels, closing the spell book. Once more he placed his hands on the horse, sending his magic into it. He couldn’t be sure, but he  thought they felt a bit stronger. As it was, he wasn’t done, not by a long shot, and only time would tell if he was truly successful. Still, there was little more that he could do for the day.  
  
He addressed the other man as he began packing his things away. “Make sure she has plenty of food and water and that she isn’t disturbed. Call me if anything happens.”  
  
The stable hand nodded his head quickly. “Yes, of course.” He stayed where he was, holding the mare’s head, while Loki showed himself out, snorting softly at the skittishness so many displayed at even the slightest hints of magic.  
  
As he made his way out of the stable, he noted the stall with Thor’s stallion was empty. So his brother had gone out. Loki was a little relieved—as well as a little annoyed— that his brother had given him the space he’d requested. He’d half-expected Thor to ignore it or forget after a few days and go back to attempting to drag Loki out. Perhaps this was a sign of greater maturity on Thor’s part. Not that his brother was a bad man, but he could definitely use a little more forethought and patience when it came to respecting others’ need for privacy and distance.  


~*~

Loki returned to the stables each day, though he was careful with how much magic he used, doling it out judiciously. He still wasn’t sure what effect this would ultimately have on either horse, and better safe than sorry.  
  
On one of his trips, he bumped into Fandral entering the palace just as he was leaving. The warrior quirked a brow at Loki’s get up of plain clothes and heavy pack slung over his shoulder. “Going somewhere?”  
  
“The stables,” Loki explained. “It’s a long story.”  
  
Fandral shrugged and turned neatly on his heel to fall into step beside Loki. “I have time. What’re you up to?”  
  
Loki explained as they made their way down to the stables, the blond man nodding and asking questions along the way. He clearly didn’t understand all of what Loki said about magic, but he still listened intently, asking questions about what he did know about. Once in the stables, Loki flicked a glance between the nervous groom and Fandral. Fandral, much quicker than his oft-carefree attitude implied, reacted to the unspoken request, dismissing the groom and holding the mare’s head himself.

“Thank you,” Loki murmured gratefully. “It makes things easier for everyone if I don’t have to worry about my helper passing out or running away screaming.”  
  
“They haven’t really done that, have they?” Fandral asked in disbelief.  
  
Loki laughed softly, patting the mare gently to settle her. “No, they haven’t, but I think that’s only because they’re afraid of what I might do if they did.”  
  
Fandral grinned. “You’re not  that scary, you know.”  
  
“No?” Loki returned wryly, attention focused on the book in front of him.  
  
“No. To those that know you, you’re rather enjoyable to be around.”  
  
Loki looked up from his book, his brows climbing to meet his hairline. There was something ever so slightly...off about Fandral’s tone. “Enjoyable?”  
  
“Mmmm,” Fandral agreed, scratching the horse behind her ears. “Things are never dull around you.”  
  
Snorting in disbelief, Loki focused his attention back on his work. “Right,” he drawled. “Because my love of books and being alone is so appealing to people.”  
  
“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re rather unique, you know. There’s no one like you in all of Asgard.”  
  
Again, that tone that added a little something to Fandral’s words. There were innocuous, but if one wanted to read something into them, well.... Loki studied the other man, but his attention was still fixed on the horse, now murmuring soothing nonsense to it. He shook his head. Clearly he needed to get out more if his imagination was running away with him at a simple compliment paid to him from a friend.  
  
He finished his work quickly. Both mare and foal were stronger now—he could sense that much, at least, even if something still didn’t seem quite right with the foal. He would keep coming back, but he no longer feared losing both of them prematurely.  
  
“Thank you again for your help,” he said, rising to his feet and brushing the straw from his knees.  
  
“My pleasure,” Fandral said cheerfully. He stood next to Loki, head tilted to the side, and then leaned in, reaching out a hand toward Loki’s face. For a moment, Loki wasn’t sure what he was going to do, and froze. Fandral’s fingers touched his hair and just when Loki thought Fandral might stroke his hand through it or something equally insane, he pulled back, a bit of straw held between thumb and forefinger. Loki sagged with a sudden release of tension he hadn’t even felt building.  
  
“Sorry,” Fandral said, stepping back and dropping the bit of hay, as if suddenly aware he’d overstepped his bounds. “I figured I’d just get it. I know you wouldn’t want to walk around with that stuck in your hair.”  
  
“I—yes, thank you.” Loki replied, flustered for no reason at all. He pulled the strings on his bag closed tightly. “I...uh, I’m returning to the palace now.”  
  
“All right.” Fandral stepped back another pace. “I’ll see you later then. Are you coming back here tomorrow?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Then perhaps I shall join you.” Then he turned away, whistling a jaunty little tune as Loki stood, bewildered, in a stall with a pregnant horse for company, wondering exactly what had just happened.  


~*~

When Loki had instructed those in the stable to call him, he should have known that the birth would merit that, just as he should have known that, with his luck, it would happen in the middle of the night.  
  
He was roused by a deeply apologetic servant and dragged himself out of bed. Loki rubbed tiredly at his face for a moment and then went in search of clothes he didn’t mind burning after his visit. He was under no delusion that he was going to get out of this without being covered with  something . After leaving instructions to bring something hot to drink to the stables, and at least something to eat, he dressed quickly, gathered his things, and headed down.  
  
Seeing his mother already in the stables was something of a surprise, but this was Frigga after all. She would hardly let her poor mare suffer through this alone. When he entered, she pulled him into a tight hug. “Thank you for coming,” she whispered.  
  
“Of course,” he said. “I could hardly not see this through, could I?”  
  
She patted his cheek, took the basket of food from the servant when it arrived, and rolled up the sleeves to her plain linen dress to help however she could.  
  
The next several hours passed in haze of soothing the mare and easing her pain as she struggled to deliver her foal. The sun first rose and then climbed higher in the sky as they all struggled on. Loki couldn’t understand what was causing so much trouble. Both mare and foal felt strong; this should be going much easier.  
  
It wasn’t until the foal finally,  finally slipped free of its mother’s body that they could see the source of the trouble. Its spindly legs—its _eight_ spindly legs—thrashed weakly against the straw covered floor as it struggled to get them under it. Those in and around the stall screamed, emitting shrieks that startled and distressed the already distraught horses, and Loki snarled out, “Shut up!” before dismissing all of them. Only his mother and the head olster stayed to help him clean up the foal and the mare.  
  
Loki attended to the mother first. She was weak, and that was to be expected, but she was healthy. He sent a few careful waves of healing into her to give her what aid he could, and then turned to the foal. His mother and the olster were rubbing it down with towels, carefully avoiding the bizarre legs. Loki carefully touched the foal—a colt—on the neck to check it as well, but as soon as he turned did, the colt whipped around and butted him hard enough with its head to knock him onto his ass.  
  
“What-?!” he began, only to break off as the colt pressed its thin body to his, shivering and shaking until Loki very carefully stroked its head and neck, stilling its nervous quivering. Loki began to get up, but as soon as he moved, the colt pressed up against him once more. When he finally got to his feet, the colt planted its head solidly against his stomach and refused to move again. He looked at his mother for help and she just shrugged helplessly. Eventually, they managed to coax the colt over to its mother so it could nurse and Loki took the opportunity to slip from the stall, hoping that once he was out of immediate eyesight, the colt would stop trying to attach itself to him.  
  
The head olster assured them that he would keep an eye on the pair and alert them in anything...unusual happened, freeing Loki and Frigga to go back to the palace to clean up. Loki avoided speculating on what had gone wrong until after he’d had a chance to bathe and eat and change into clean clothes. Then he sought out his parents to try and figure out what had happened.  
  
Finding his parents involved going back to the stables. Word had spread of what Frigga’s mare had given birth to, and Odin was curious to see the colt. Frigga and Thor had gone with him, so when Loki arrived, his entire family was clustered around the foal. And as soon as the foal caught sight of Loki, it practically threw itself against the stall door to get to him. Sighing, Loki went inside, calming the creature with nothing more than a few gentle pats. Then he turned to his father.  
  
“Any thoughts as to why I have an eight-legged horse that thinks I am its mother?”  
  
Odin stroked his beard for several long moments, regarding the pair. “If I had to guess, I would say the foal is responding to your magic. That is, after all, the only reason why it’s alive, and since you used so much before it was born, it’s probably now a fundamental part of it.”  
  
“That makes sense.” Loki conceded. “And the legs?”  
  
Odin shrugged helplessly. “That I don’t know. My only thought is that because unborn beings are still somewhat unformed, your magic somehow...warped it.”  
  
“So now my magic creates abominations,” Loki muttered. “Wonderful.”  
  
“Aw, don’t say that,” protested Thor, who had joined Loki in the stall and was crouched down, scratching the colt behind the ears, the colt’s tail flicking in obvious pleasure. “It’s kind of...cute.”  
  
“Your taste is questionable, Brother,” Loki replied dryly. Thor flushed, but didn’t say anything, just continued to pet the little colt. Loki raked a hand through his hair. “So what should I do now?”  
  
“He obviously loves you,” Frigga said. “I think you should visit him, at least once a day, spend some time with him. He’s attached to his mother, naturally, and will look to her for most things, but if he is closely tied to your magic, abandoning him would be cruel. At least this way, you’ll have a chance to wean him from your presence. Besides, it will give you a chance to observe if there have been any other effects.”  
  
Loki sighed and looked down at the colt, reaching out to gently stroke the velvety nose. The colt immediately looked back up at him, adoration clear in its brown eyes. “All right,” he said softly. “You and I, little beast, are going to be spending some time together.” He stroked the nose one last time. “But not right now. Go spend some time with your mother.” He used a little magic to nudge it away, and it obediently went, curling down next to the mare, effortlessly tucking all of its limbs under it.  
  
Quickly and quietly, he left the stall, closing the door firmly behind him, silently indicating to his family that they should leave. Odin and Frigga left first and Thor walked next to him as they followed their parents. “A father already,” Thor jested. “I would not have suspected it of you, Loki. Or would this make you a mother?”  
  
Loki gave her brother a sour look. “Very droll, Brother. Shall we see how else my magic can yet warp things unborn?” He directed a very pointed glance at his brother’s groin. Thor flushed and laughed again, a trace uncomfortable. His arms twitched and Loki was unsettled when the expected arm across his shoulders didn’t come. In fact, Thor took a half step away. “I was just joking,” he said, frowning.  
  
“I know,” Thor nodded. But he refused to meet Loki’s eyes, and when they exited the stables, he hastily went his own way. Loki watched him go, wondering if his joke had upset Thor much, or had wounded his pride. He shook his head, resolving to tread more carefully in the future.  


~*~

After the colt—which Loki named Sleipnir—was born, Thor avoided his brother for a few days. He knew the off-hand comment meant nothing, that it wasn’t intended to be anything but a harmless joke, but he couldn’t erase the mental image of Loki touching him that way. He needed to get control over this, to purge the need that had consumed over the last few weeks, the need to explore, to know. And he needed to do it soon.  
  
Asking about those illicit houses of pleasure was out of the question, he knew that now. His only hope lay in somehow finding someone the same way he found his women, and he still had no idea how to do it. But however he was going to do it, it wouldn’t happen if he continued to sit back and do nothing.  
  
At the next feast, held the following day after he’d made his decision, Thor watched the others around the room, waving off those who sought his company in favor of observing others. The play between men and women was easy to read. They made no attempt at disguising it, so Thor ignored them, looking for a deeper of level of interaction that would seem harmless at a glance, but actually reveal more than just friendship.  
  
There, those two. Were they just friends or was there more to the friendly slaps to the arm and the embrace thrown over one shoulder? He watched, covertly, but two men eventually went their separate ways, each with their own woman, and Thor was left searching again, focusing on another pair of men and subjecting them to the same scrutiny.  
  
The night passed slowly, and to his frustration, Thor couldn’t seem to find anything to answer his questions. He was impatient, and being vexed so only added to his ill-temper. He glowered into his mead, abandoning the guests to focus on things that didn’t matter and couldn’t help him, like the decorations and the guards. Thor’s attention caught briefly on one of the guards. This one was was tall, like most of the guards, but leaner. He was beardless, unlike most, and with his dark hair, he looked, from a distance, remarkably like Loki.  
  
Thor stared at the man, wondering if perhaps that was the answer to his problem. He couldn’t have Loki, but he could seek out those who resembled him—once he finally figured out how to—and indulge himself with the forbidden that way. And since it would all be hidden, he wouldn’t have to worry about anyone making the connection.  
  
Suddenly, he realized that he’d been staring at the guard throughout his musing. Staring at the guard who was now openly meeting his gaze, a small frown pulling his brows together. Thor gave his head a small shake, stretching and trying to pretend that he’d merely been lost in his own thoughts and not really staring at the man.  
  
He spent the rest of the evening carefully avoiding looking at the guard until he retired to bed—alone.  


~*~

Thor returned to watching others over the course of the next few functions. There were times when he thought he spotted what he was looking for—touches that lingered a bit too long, looks that seemed weighty and conveyed unspoken words.  When men stumbled from the hall, supporting each other, he could tell that some were not nearly so drunk, that they were using the convenient excuse of too much drink to touch each other and slip away and be together. He wanted to pound the arm of his chair in frustration, for now that he’d discovered what he was looking for, he still didn’t know how to find someone for himself.   
  
He’d seen the guard he’d ogled a few more times, and his imagination began to play tricks on him. He began to think that he saw the man staring at him, meeting his gaze boldly, keeping his attention focused on Thor even after Thor had dropped his own gaze, only sneaking looks back. But a guard wouldn’t do that. They were some of the best men Asgard had, tasked with keeping the palace and royal family safe. None would dare shame themselves that way. What Thor thought he saw in that gaze was nothing more than wishful thinking.   
  
It couldn’t be anything but wishful thinking.   
  
After yet another spent pretending to enjoy himself when he was consumed inside by his warring desires and unsated lust, Thor went back to his rooms. It was useless. He was in no mood for it tonight, but tomorrow he would go out, seek out the pleasures available to him and try to forget he’d ever had this mad plan to begin with. So consumed was he by his troubles that he paid scant attention to the ever-present guard that followed him back to his rooms, always keeping a respectful distance.   
  
It wasn’t until a hand tentatively touched his arm that he actually acknowledged the guard’s presence, turning to see the same dark-haired guard he’d been watching. He sucked in a sharp breath, painfully aware of how alone they were in the hallway, how exposed they were without the press a crowd to hide them. Thor opened his mouth to ask why the guard had stopped him when he noted that the guard’s hand still rested on his arm, that he was touching him in a way no one did without permission.   
  
The guard looked like he wanted to say something, but instead just tightened his hand on Thor’s arm and turned to head down a narrow, darkened hallway. Thor stayed where he was for a moment, torn. That had been an invitation if he’d ever seen one and he knew that this was his chance, this moment, right now. All he had to do was reach out and take it. Fear paralyzed him for a moment as he stared after the now indistinct form of the guard standing before a door. The man turned, held out one hand, and that single beckoning motion was enough to drive Thor forward and down the hall after the man.   
  
The door the guard opened and entered led to a small room, little in it besides a few simple chairs and tables. “A break room for the guards when they’re not near the barracks,” the man said quietly, finally breaking his silence, turned away from Thor to light a single lamp. “It’s not used much anymore, but it’s still private.”   
  
With the lamp lit, the guard turned back to face Thor, who stood with his back nearly against a wall. His eyes—gray, not green—darted up to meet Thor’s and then away. “I wasn’t...sure I was right,” he confessed quietly. “You seemed like you wanted to, but...if I was wrong....” The man shuddered slightly and Thor suddenly realized how much power he held at the moment. If he had been wrong, this could have cost the man not only his job, but his freedom, his health, his life.   
  
“You’re not wrong,” Thor said hoarsely. “But I....” He trailed off, unsure how to continue.   
  
“I understand,” the guard replied, tugging off his gauntlets and tossing them onto a table, followed by his sword belt, laying the weapon alongside the gauntlets. Then he stepped forward, close to Thor, but not quite touching. His eyes were lowered, almost coquettish, but there was a lack of confidence behind his gestures and Thor guessed was nervousness more than anything else.   
  
“Have you done this before?” he asked unsteadily.   
  
That seemed to release some tension because the man laughed softly. “Yes, I have, though admittedly not with someone close to your rank.” His eyes darted upward for a moment and then down, sweeping over Thor’s face and body with a frankly approving stare. “Nor with someone as attractive.”   
  
Thor sucked in a sharp breath, cheeks heating.   
  
“May I touch you?” The question was husky and Thor just nodded, unable to form a verbal response.   
  
He almost expected the guard to kiss him, but he didn’t, something for which Thor was grateful. A kiss right now seemed like too much of an intimacy. Instead, the guard reached out and lightly touched Thor’s sides, just resting his fingers there. Thor could feel the heat of his hands through the tunic he wore and he held still, wondering what the guard would do next. Already he could feel the heating pooling in his groin, the material of his pants pulling tight across it as his cock began to swell.   
  
His touch having elicited no adverse reactions, the guard gripped more firmly. He kneaded Thor’s flesh gently and then trailed his hands forward, along the waist of his pants. He pulled the tunic up in little bunches until he could slip his hands beneath, letting his fingertips skim along the skin of Thor’s abdomen.   
  
“What’s your name?” Thor suddenly gasped.   
  
The guard looked up, a small, pleased smile on his lips. “Galar,” he said.   
  
“Galar,” Thor repeated, fixing the name in his mind. “What are you...?”   
  
“I’m just going to make you feel good,” Galar whispered. “That’s all. Just let me.”   
  
Thor nodded again, and without another word, Galar dropped to his knees before him. His fingers worked open the laces on Thor’s pants quickly, deftly, and he parted the material, taking a moment to stroke Thor through the material of his smallclothes before pushing everything down to expose him. Thor gasped at the rasp of the fabric across his sensitive flesh, at the confidence Galar showed at something Thor was still terrified to be discovered at.   
  
Galar looked up once, and when Thor made no move to stop him, leaned forward to take Thor’s erect cock between his lips. Thor gasped again, unable to help the involuntary buck his hips gave at the contact. With women, if that happened, they pulled back until Thor could control himself, sometimes squeezing his hips as a reminder. Galar, however, while squeezing his hips, didn’t pull back. Instead, he forced Thor the last half-step back so that he was flush against the wall. Then he pinned Thor’s hips there, using his strength to keep Thor in place when he worked his mouth further down Thor’s cock.   
  
Thor let his head fall back against the wall with a thump. He knew, without a doubt, that he could break Galar’s hold easily—there were few in Asgard who could match his raw strength—but to be with someone who could use such strength against him, to hold him in place...that was new.   
  
And he liked it.   
  
He also liked the way Galar seemed to know what he was doing. Oh, the women he’d had do this to him had been skilled, but the guard seemed to have a knack for finding just the right spots, for using the just the right touches and pressure, and Thor could only assume that came from knowing what it felt like himself. Thor bit back a moan as Galar swallowed around him, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. Galar glanced up again, his eyes crinkled in amusement, and he hummed, tearing another moan from Thor’s throat.   
  
Eventually, Galar pried one of his hands off Thor’s hip to cup his balls, rolling them in his palm, and then squeezing with just enough pressure that Thor came with a choked cry, hastily bitten off to keep anyone outside the room from hearing. Galar sealed his lips around Thor’s cock, sucking and swallowing all of Thor’s seed, his tongue darting out after he’d let Thor’s cock slip free to get a tiny bit at the corner of his mouth.   
  
He stayed down on his knees. “Did that please you?” he asked, voice slightly hoarse, and Thor could only nod again. Galar grinned crookedly. “Good.”   
  
Carefully, Galar pulled Thor’s clothes back into place, retying the laces and then smoothing the fabric. He looked at Thor critically and then finally stood, buckling his sword belt back into place and tugging his gauntlets on. Thor wondered if he looked as wrung out as he felt. If he did, then anyone who saw the two of them together would know what had happened. For his part, Galar appeared the same, if a bit flushed.   
  
“You’re fine,” Galar murmured, as if reading his thoughts, and then opened the door silently to duck his head into the hall. “All clear,” he murmured and then held the door back and waited for Thor to precede him.   
  
The walk back to his chambers felt surreal. He was hyperaware of Galar just a few paces behind him, and he convinced that every servant and guard they passed knew what they had done. But all that happened was that they nodded or bowed or curtsied as they should have and went about their business. Back at his rooms, Thor forced himself to go in, not even acknowledging Galar, treating him as he did any guard that would have escorted him back. He felt badly about it, that someone he’d been so intimate with should be dismissed so casually, but he knew there was no help for it, not if he wanted to remain above suspicion.   
  
As soon as the doors were closed, he fell back against them, nearly giddy with relief. He’d done it, he’d finally done it and hadn’t gotten caught. Of course, there were further ramifications to consider—namely that he did desire men—but those could be saved for tomorrow, when he was together enough to truly think his way through it. But for now, he’d indulged himself, discovered he liked it and wanted more, and he had found someone to turn to.   
  
He fell asleep easily that night, finally unburdened by the bulk of the worries that had been weighing down upon him.   
  



	11. Chapter 11

Loki followed his mother’s advice, going down to see Sleipnir at least once a day, often times more, if he could manage it. He hadn’t expected to be quite so fond of the unusual creature, but when one’s appearance was greeted with near-ecstatic enthusiasm, it was hard _not_ to feel affection for the being giving it.

So he visited, spending time getting to know the colt that followed him like a puppy, and seeing if there was anything else odd about him. So far, Sleipnir didn’t appear to suffer any ill effects from having extra limbs. He pranced and ran about without tripping or falling, and Loki was forced to conclude that however different he was from normal horses, his body felt perfectly natural to him. Sleipnir did seem particularly intelligent, but he reserved judgment on that until it was more grown and he could test it for himself.

More often than not, Fandral joined him when he down to the stables and the paddocks without even needing to be asked, professing his own affection for the colt, bringing carrots and apples to feed to both horses while Loki checked to make sure they were healthy. And afterwards, he frequently convinced Loki to join him on a ride, the two sharing easy, companionable silences in between Fandral relaying amusing—and most likely false—anecdotes.

They were stretched out on a riverbank, in the shade cast from the sprawling limbs of a tree, the wineskin between them long since depleted. Loki’s ribs ached pleasantly from laughing and he was considering a short nap. Fandral was rummaging through what was left of the food he’d brought, and finally produced a pair of tarts, each wrapped neatly in a heavy napkin.

“Tart?” he asked, holding one out to Loki.

“Why not?” Loki took the proffered treat and took a bite, savoring the flavor. “Swiped from the royal kitchens, I see. Were I one of the ladies at court, I would think you were trying to win my favor.”

Fandral laughed quietly. “You know, my prince, you’re not quite as bright as everyone says if you’re just realizing that now."

Loki went very, very still, the mouthful of tart suddenly tasteless, and when he swallowed, it went down like a ball of lead. “What did you say?”

Fandral looked at him, for once with no glint of humor or mirth in his eye. “You heard me.”

Sitting up, Loki carefully set the tart down on the ground next to him. “I think I must have misunderstood you.”

“You didn’t and you know it.” Fandral set his own pastry down, ignoring it as he faced Loki. “But if you would prefer more direct words, let me be blunt. I enjoy you. I enjoy your company, your conversation. And if you would indulge me, I would like for our relationship to continue to...grow.”

Stunned, Loki sat up from his lounging position, pushing down the slight surge of panic. Fandral did not know his desires, _could not_ know his desires. Loki kept them carefully locked away, the thought of the consequences too horrific to be born if he made a mistake. “I don’t know what I’ve done to give you this impression, but I’m not—”

“Attracted to me?” Fandral butted in. “Come now, Loki, are you trying to tell me you’ve never looked at another man and thought him desirable?”

“No!” the word was spat, anger beginning to overtake the panic. There was no way for Fandral to know that Heimdall could not view them; he’d told no one of when he’d learned to do that, and it was a secret held only between the gatekeeper and himself. “And you must be mad, to take such risks under Heimdall’s gaze.”

Fandral laughed. “If Heimdall were going to ruin me, he’s already had chances beyond counting. He’s made no move to do so.” He shrugged. “Of course, I haven’t yet attempted to pervert a prince of Asgard. Who knows? We may return only to find guards waiting to cart me off in irons.”

“How can you jest about such a thing?” Loki asked, shocked.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Fandral quipped. “Perhaps it will give Heimdall a laugh before he turns me in.”

“You’re...” Loki searched for a word another word and failed. “You must be mad. First with your insinuation, and then with your mockery—”

“I know that I find you handsome, that I want you,” Fandral retorted. “And if I’m not mistaken, you want me as well.”

For one of the few times in his life, Loki was at a loss for words. Nevermind that there might be a ring of truth to his words, for Fandral to speak such openly, even here when they were alone, was a risk he wouldn’t have expected anyone to take. “I fear you are mistaken,” he finally managed.

“Am I?” Fandral moved then, suddenly, closing the space between with a swiftness Loki didn’t expect, and then going further, throwing a leg over Loki’s until he was kneeling over them. “Am I?”

“Yes.” Loki said firmly.

Fandral leaned further in. “You’re lying. You lie to others, but you never lie to us, not really, so I can tell when you do. And you’re lying now. You want this.”

Loki put his hands on Fandral’s chest, pushing firmly. “Fandral, this is—”

“Reckless? Ill-advised? Dangerous? Take your pick. There’s nothing you can say that I haven’t already said to myself.” He leaned forward just a bit, pushing against Loki’s hands. “Tell me to go and I will. Just don’t do it out of fear.”

Loki frowned, lips twisting. “And why not? All it would take would be you letting even the briefest mention of this slip, and I would lose what little respect I’ve earned.”

“Really?” Fandral sat back, brows rising in incredulity. “To begin with, let’s ignore the grave insult and deep injustice you do me by suggesting I would ‘let this slip’ and consider that it would harm you. It might, but I would be in a far worse position. People might like me, but that won’t keep my head attached to my shoulders should it be known that I corrupted a prince of Asgard.”

“I think you’d probably just be allowed to pay wergild,” he muttered bitterly.

“No, I wouldn’t.” Fandral paused, clearly thinking over his next words. “No amount of wergild would allow me back into society if we were caught. You, they would have no choice, cold comfort as it is. Whatever they might think, the Allfather would not allow his son to suffer that fate. The blame would be pinned solely on me and I would probably die a very ignoble death shortly thereafter.”

“I wouldn’t allow that to happen. Not for something I had a hand in.”

“Ah!” Fandral’s expression brightened. “Then you _do_ wish to have a hand in it!”

Loki couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped him. “You are impossible.”

“To the contrary,” Fandral breathed, leaning in, Loki’s arms no longer offering any real resistance, “I am very, _very_ possible.” His lips brushed Loki’s once before coming back for a more lingering kiss. There was the brief touch of a tongue to his lower lip before Fandral pulled back, face falling in disappointment. “I really did think—”

He didn’t get any further because Loki wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and pulled them together again. He made a brief happy sound as their mouths met, and then parted his as Loki’s tongue probed at the seam of his lips. They kissed for a while, hard and intense, and it wasn’t long before Loki felt himself growing hard. He broke the kiss, tipping his head backward to pant harshly.

Fandral leaned forward, taking advantage of their positions to mouth at the exposed column of Loki’s throat. “This has been torture,” he muttered against Loki’s skin. “You have no idea.” He rolled his hips against Loki’s, letting him feel the bulge in his own pants.

Loki hissed and grabbed his hips to still him. It galled him to admit ignorance in any area, and though he knew what sex with another man entailed in theory, he had no practical knowledge. “I haven’t—”

“I know.” Fandral cut him off, kept from having to admit the truth. “Don’t worry, I’ll show you. Whatever you want to know. But for now, given where we are, I recommend something much simpler. Just let me...”

He lifted himself off Loki and grabbed for the bag that had contained their food. He reached in, searching for a moment before pulling a small glass vial filled with a clear fluid. Loki caught it when Fandral tossed it to him, prying the cork out and dabbing a bit on his finger. The liquid glided smooth and slick between the pads of fingers. Oil. He raised a brow. “You’ve been prepared for this?”

“Always be prepared,” Fandral said smoothly, crawling back over to Loki’s side. “We don’t _need_ it, not for what I have in mind, but it certainly makes things far easier and more pleasant.” Stopping next to Loki this time, he grasped the hem of his tunic in his hands, and pulled it up and over his head, baring him to the waist. Loki grinned. Fandral was perhaps not as thickly muscled as some, but his physique was flawless. His shoulders were broad, the lines of his torso clean and smooth as they led down to a narrow waist and hips.

Fandral stood and toes his boots off before tugging the knots of the laces of his pants free. Loki stayed where he was seated, but pulled his boots off. “I would have thought you were one for a little more romance,” Loki mused.

The other man stopped, laces loosened, his thumbs hooked under his waistband, ready to push his pants down. “Do you want me to romance you?” he asked incredulously.

“Not really, no.”

“Then stop talking and get your clothes off.”

Loki chuckled, but stripped his shirt off, folding it so that it wouldn’t get wrinkled. By the time he turned his attention to his pants, Fandral was completely nude, standing next to him with legs spread and arms akimbo, looking far too pleased with himself. Well, if Fandral wanted to put himself on display, Loki might as well enjoy the show. Letting his eyes travel over all of the exposed flesh, he paid more attention to Fandral’s cock. It was nice, well proportioned, a bit shorter than Loki, but slightly thicker. The sparse blond hair of his chest was repeated here, but thicker, darker, a nest of gold that framed rather than obscured.

Aware that he’d been staring a bit too long, he coughed and finished undoing his pants, digging his heels in so he could lift his hips and slide the clothing off his legs. He wondered if he should rise, but Fandral knelt down next to him, resting on hand lightly on his abdomen. Loki couldn’t help but wonder what Fandral saw. He was attractive, he knew that, and as tall, if not taller, than most Aesir. And while he was far from soft, he knew that many found his build to be lacking. Women had never complained—and he thought that they might have enjoyed not being crushed beneath their partner—but he didn’t know how another man might react to his body.

“Gorgeous.” The word was quiet, but clear, and he couldn’t help but start in surprise. Fandral looked up, blue eyes wide. “I didn’t realize how pale you were until I saw all this skin.”

Loki grimaced and looked away from where Fandral had moved to stroking the faint lines of his ribs and the just of his hipbones. “We know why I look different.”

“Different, yes, but....” Fandral  nudged closer, bracketing Loki with his arms and slipping one thigh between Loki’s. “Unusual. Rare. _Exotic_ ,” he drawled the last word, bringing his face closer so that he could kiss Loki.

He pushed Loki back to lie down, and Loki went grudgingly, unsure of what Fandral intended. Despite wanting the other man, he had no real desire to play a woman’s role. He wasn’t afraid that Fandral would call him an ergi, but he’d learned long ago to never give the impression of being weak first.

“Do you have the oil?” Fandral asked, and Loki nodded, wordlessly plucking it from the ground next to him and handing it over. Fandral pulled the cork free and carelessly poured some into his hand, the excess dripping down to splatter on Loki’s belly and erection. Then he reached down and grasped Loki’s cock, stroking slowly and spreading the oil evenly. “Now you,” he said, holding the vial up and Loki extended a hand for Fandral to dribble some oil into.

Loki repeated Fandral’s actions, wrapping his hand around Fandral’s cock and smoothing the oil over it in sure, smooth motions. Stroking another man wasn’t as odd as he might have thought. The action was familiar and he spent a few moments exploring the similarities and differences between the two of them.

“Um,” Fandral gasped above him. “Not that I don’t like this, because I do, very much, but if you keep that up I’m not going to be much good shortly.”

Grinning, Loki released him and settled back. “Then by all means, let us proceed.”

“It’s not complicated, really,” Fandral said, settling himself down, bracing his weight on his bent arms, one leg still between Loki’s. “We could simply use our hands, but that’s so common. I was thinking more along the lines of _this_.”

“This” was Fandral bringing his hips down to touch Loki’s, then pressing them closer together, until their cocks were side by side, trapped between their bellies. Loki hissed slightly at the contact, and his hips bucked slightly, beyond his control. The slide of flesh against flesh had Fandral moaning slightly, dropping his head as he panted. “Yeah, I think you’ve got the idea.”

It took Loki a moment to find the best way to hold on, and he eventually settled his hands on Fandral’s hips, then sliding them down to his ass. Fandral kept his weight supported on his arms, but lowered himself closer so that he could bite and suck at Loki’s neck while Loki surged underneath him. They rolled their hips together, not quite like the motion of fucking, but a more sinuous, sliding rhythm that rubbed everything in just the right way.

It wasn’t quite like anything Loki had done before. This was different from being in a woman’s body, or having a capable mouth or hand wrapped around his cock. This was purely heat and friction and pressure. Fandral’s weight above him was different, but pleasing, the slide of firm planes and hard muscle its own unique pleasure.

Fandral came first, suddenly and without warning, stiffening against Loki as his seed spilled between them, warm and wet. Loki didn’t stop, continuing to roll his hips, rutting his cock against the tensed muscles of Fandral’s belly until he came as well, back arching as his seed pumped out to mix with Fandral’s. As soon as he relaxed to the ground, Fandral, who’d been continuing to support himself on his arms, collapsed on the ground next to him, uttering a sound that Loki was fairly sure had never intended to be a word to begin with.

“Well,” Loki said when he got his breath back, “that was—”

“Really, really good,” Fandral muttered, forehead resting on Loki’s arm.

“I suppose that suffices,” Loki laughed tiredly.

“Suffices?” Fandral managed to prop himself up a bit. “By all means, don’t drown me in praise.”

“Your ego hardly needs any stroking.” Fandral’s lecherous grin caused Loki to groan. “Let’s forget I said anything.” He shifted, seeking a more comfortable position, and frowned at the cooling mess that covered both of them. “We should clean up.”

“Later,” Fandral said, draping an arm over Loki’s chest to pin him where he was. “Right now, let’s just enjoy the afterglow for a few moments, shall we?”

Smiling ruefully, Loki nodded and settled back down, allowing Fandral to keep himself half-draped over his body, and let his eyes close, enjoying the sun and fresh air on his naked skin.

~*~

“Now, as long as Heimdall says nothing, everything should be fine.” Fandral’s tone was light as he fiddled with the cuff of a sleeve, but it couldn’t quite disguise the worry in his voice. While they’d been having sex, the earlier concerns he’d expressed had been forgotten, put aside during the heat and passion. But now, with desires sated and cooled, his worries returned.

Loki debated for a moment, wondering if he should tell Fandral that for all Heimdall knew, they could have encountered and slaughtered a group of fire giants, and he would have been none the wiser. Knowing would put Fandral’s fears at ease and would mean a likely repeat of the afternoon’s activities. Loki smiled. That would be _most_ agreeable.

“Don’t trouble yourself. Heimdall knows nothing of what has passed.”

Fandral looked at him sharply. “How can you be sure?”

With a long-suffering sigh, Loki rolled his eyes. “Who am I? What areas do I excel in? Trust me, he has seen nothing and knows nothing. As long as you say nothing, then you have no cause to worry.”

After a moment of considering that, Fandral’s lips curled up in a wide, sunny smile. “Well, then.” He didn’t say anything else, just stepped into Loki’s space and claimed his mouth. Momentarily surprised at the movement, Loki offered no resistance to the plundering of Fandral’s kiss, and when the other man finally stepped back, they were both slightly breathless.

“Well, then,” Loki agreed after clearing his throat.

Fandral laughed, and turned just as suddenly to vault into his saddle. “Then let us go! I don’t know about you, but while a frolic in the woods is nice, I much prefer a bed.”

That was one of Fandral’s better suggestions, and Loki could find no fault in it. “Then we should go.” He swung up into his own saddle and set his heels to his his horse’s flanks, and they raced back the way they had come.

~*~

In the wake of his...encounter with Galar, Thor waited, waited for something to change or happen. He was half-convinced that someone had seen them and would expose them at the first opportunity. And if not them, then surely Heimdall would speak up, would tell Thor’s father what he had seen. Thor had never heard of the guardian revealing such things before, but surely such behavior from the crown prince could not go unremarked. His stomach twisted in anxious knots, the fearful anticipation almost too much to bear.

But nothing happened. First days went by, and then a week, and no one said or did anything that made him suspect they had been caught. Slowly, hesitantly, he began to relax. Without the weight of impending doom hanging over his head, it was easier to enjoy himself. Those around him noticed; his friends were glad to have their companion back to his normal self, and his mother told him how relieved she was that he was feeling better.

That made Thor feel guilty, for how could Frigga look at him like that, or brush his cheek with a kiss, if she knew the truth? How could his friends welcome his company if they knew of how he'd shamed himself?

But like before, the shame did not keep Thor from wanting, and now that he had begun, it was like a dam had burst. He managed to wait two weeks, and then as he was passing by Galar, held the guard’s eyes for a few moments longer. Galar’s eyes widened slightly before he nodded almost imperceptibly. Thor walked on, saying nothing, and leaving the details of how they were to meet up to the other man.

When evening fell, and Thor had still had no word or sign, he began to think it simply wasn’t possible that day. Though it was disappointing, he understood. Since they had to keep things secret, they couldn’t risk discovery in a heated rush to sate desire. He resolved to wait, to be patient, to let things come in their own time.

So it was a bit of a surprise when there was a quiet knock on his door that night, and he opened it to see Galar standing there. “You wished to see me, Your Highness?” he asked. For a moment, Thor wanted to strangle him for being so open, for risking everything, until he realized that Galar’s words were completely innocuous and properly deferential. Anyone passing by would see or hear nothing amiss.

So Thor nodded. “I did,” he said quietly. “Please, come in.”

As soon as the door closed behind them and Thor had turned the heavy lock—as quietly as he could—Galar turned to him, a laughing smile pulling up the corner of his mouth. He unbuckled his sword belt immediately, laying it down on a table, and then reached for his cloak, folding it and laying it down over his weapon. “I hope you don’t mind that I took so long,” he said. “I thought it best to wait until there were fewer people around.”

“And you don’t think anyone will find your presence here suspicious?” Thor asked, unable to quite leave his worry behind.

Galar shook his head. “I mentioned a few times in passing that you were curious about guards patterns, and the logic behind so, and that I offered to instruct you. It should be enough to keep anyone from wondering too much, and explain why I came to you.”

Thor nodded. That made sense. It was a reasonable excuse that wouldn’t cause anyone to question them. He wiped his hands nervously on his thighs. “So...what did you...have in mind?” He winced at the uncertainty of his tone, hating the way he felt unsure and off-balance.

Frowning thoughtfully, Galar regarded him for a long moment. “Have you ever touched another man?” he finally asked.

“Other than myself...no,” Thor replied, flushing.

The guard nodded, clearly expecting the answer. “It might be a good idea to try that then.” He wasted no time putting actions to words, slipping free of his hauberk and then piece by piece, shedding the rest of his clothes. Thor stood there watching, gawking, as each article of clothing was put to the side, until Galar stood completely nude before him. Plucking at his own tunic, Thor asked, “Should I...?”

Shaking his head, Galar said, “No, only if you want to.”

Relieved, Thor let his hand fall. “Now what?”

“Now...” Galar smiled wryly and took a step closer. “Now...looking at me would be a good start.”

Thor’s first instinct was to protest, for he was looking at Galar. But then he realized that the man meant more than just looking at his face. With a quick nod, Thor let his gaze drift down, taking in one part of the guard at a time. It was hardly the first time he’d seen a man naked, but it was the first time he did so with intent and desire to reach out and touch what he saw. Like most Aesir, Galar was well-muscled, though lacking the bulk that often characterized their race. He skin was pale, but not nearly so much as Loki’s, and there was a light dusting of dark hair across his chest. Thor’s gaze lingered momentarily on the man’s pink nipples and then slipped further down, tracing the lines of his stomach muscles and the thickening and darkening hair near his groin. Thor let his gaze skitter past that quickly, moving to Galar’s legs. Like the rest of him, they were well-shaped, also with a light covering of dark hair. Then with a deep breath, Thor brought his gaze back up, focusing it directly at the guard’s groin.

At the moment, Galar’s cock was flaccid, and Thor took the time to study it. It seemed...perfectly normal. Thor wasn’t sure _why_ that relieved him. It wasn’t as if he expected anything different. Galar was a man, simply a man, made just like any other. Normal. There was nothing to be afraid of, he reminded himself.

As he watched, though, aware that neither had said anything during Thor’s inspection, Galar’s cock began to rise, slowly hardening under Thor’s gaze. Galar shifted slightly, tensing muscles and relaxing them, his breathing growing a little deeper. With Galar’s earlier question, Thor knew it was only a matter of time before he was expected to do something, and now was as good a time as any. “Can I touch you?”

“Please,” Galar breathed, his voice a trifle unsteady. Thor stepped forward and reached out, avoiding Galar’s cock, like he had with his gaze, and placed his hand firmly upon his chest, resting over the swell of muscle and feeling the heartbeat beneath his hand. Galar leaned into the touch, telling Thor without a word it was all right, it was good, that more would be welcome. He lifted his other hand, placed it on the opposite side of Galar’s chest. After a moment, he began to move them, mapping out with his fingertips the differences between a male and a female body.

Every so often his touch would elicit a small noise or gasp from the other man, prompting Thor to repeat the action as he learned what Galar liked. Thor had always liked pleasing his lovers, taking pride and his own pleasure in his ability to pleasure _them_. It turned out to be no different now. Each time he did something to draw out one of those little noises, his own cock twitched, slowly filling within his pants. Eventually, he’d explored all that he could without going further, and with an encouraging smile from the guard, reached down and carefully wrapped his fingers around the other man’s cock.

It felt strange to be holding another man, but not...bad. Curiously, he tightened his grip and stroked once, Galar sucking in a shuddering breath. Thor did it again, a bit firmer, grinning slightly when Galar braced one hand on his shoulder for support. He would have continued, but for the catch and drag of his callused skin against sensitive flesh. They needed something to ease the way, or any enjoyment from this would be short lived.

Thor stepped away, gesturing behind him. “To the bed,” he said, surprised at the roughness in his own voice.

Galar nodded and stepped away, heading toward the bed, his erect cock bobbing with each step. It _should_ have looked ridiculous, but Thor found his gaze riveted to the sight. He shook himself slightly as Galar slid back onto the sheets, and moved to join him. Pausing for a moment, he shed his shirt, but left his pants on, not yet comfortable being completely naked with another man. Once Galar was settled, Thor reached into the drawer of the small table by his bed, and withdrew a flask of oil. He unstoppered it carefully, poured a small amount into his hand, then sealed it and reached tentative fingers for the other man once again.

He took a few moments to apply the oil completely, trying not to think too hard about exactly what he was doing. While he worked, Galar murmured appreciatively, and then gasped when Thor decided he had done enough and grasped his cock more firmly. Thor thought about all the things he liked when he touched himself, and tried to apply them now that he was pleasuring someone else. He kept his hold firm, but not too tight, and paid careful attention to head, swiping his thumb over the slit every so often, and twisting his hand on every other downstroke.

When they’d first begun, Thor had wondered if this would be difficult, if his inexperience would mean he was incapable somehow. But Galar was clearly pleased with his efforts, his hips twitching, soft groans being almost pulled from his throat. Thor considered speeding up, bringing this to an end, but, he realized with no small amount of startlement, he didn’t want to. He enjoyed watching Galar’s face, the expressions that passed over it. It was no less engrossing than with any of the women he had made love to in the past. His partner’s pleasure was intoxicating, and he would enjoy it for as long as it was possible, keeping the motions of his hand steady and even.

Eventually, Galar was uttering broken little pleas, one hand fisted in the sheets with the other holding Thor’s arm in a bruising grip. “Please,” he gasped. “Thor, please, I can’t—” He swallowed back a cry, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. Thor relented then, readjusting his grip and stroking just a little bit faster until Galar came in his hand, his back arching up off the bed, until the ecstasy passed and he fell back onto the sheets.

Thor watched him regain his breath, his heaving chest slowing until his breathing was normal. When Galar finally looked up at him, Thor smiled tentatively. “It was good, then?”

Galar laughed, throwing his arm across his eyes, “‘Was it good?’ he asks.” He lifted his arm. “You truly have to ask?”

Thor shrugged, becoming increasingly aware of the other’s man’s seed cooling on his hand, and of the tightness of his pants around his groin. He shifted, looking around for something to wipe his hand on other than his bedding, and then moved to rise when nothing was suitable.

“Wait,” Galar said, reaching for his arm. “Let me.”

“Let you?” Thor asked, curious. “I don’t....”

His voice trailed off at the first touch of Galar’s mouth on his hand, carefully licking up his own release, his tongue swiping over every inch of Thor’s hand until all traces of his seed were gone. Thor watched, slack-jawed, amazed that the man was doing this. Despite their first encounter, when Galar had swallowed Thor’s release, Thor had never expected to see anyone do this. He could feel his face flushing with embarrassment, the fabric of his pants growing even more restrictive as more blood rushed to his cock. It shouldn’t be that arousing to watch another man do that.

But it was.

When he hand was clean, Galar pulled back, licking his lips. “H-How?” Thor stuttered. “I mean, why? Is that...do you _enjoy_ that?”

Galar nodded, stretching, and Thor was struck by how utterly self-conscious the man was about his nudity. “I do. But that’s not true of everyone. It’s different for each person.” He grinned up at Thor, and there was no way to describe it other than wicked. “And you’ll never know until you try.” Thor blinked and pulled back slightly, unsure of how to respond. Galar must have sensed that he’d made a misstep, because his expression softened. “But that’s for another time. Right now, let’s take care of you."

He rolled over onto his stomach and wiggled himself over and between Thor’s legs, making short work of the laces. At the first touch of his lips, Thor’s hesitations and doubts fled his mind. Like the guard had said, those ponderings were for another time, and he gave himself to the pleasures being given to him now.

~*~

It took Thor two months to work up the courage to take Galar in his mouth.

By then, even Thor had to admit to himself that they would be considered lovers—if anyone knew. They weren’t together every night, or even every other night—that would be far too suspicious—and Thor did lay with women in order not to draw attention to himself, but their nights together were often enough that it could be considered a relationship. And their time together was very satisfying. They pleasured each other with hands and bodies, rubbing and thrusting against each other, and Galar used his mouth often, encouraging Thor to reciprocate, but never, ever attempting to force him when Thor proved resistant.

For weeks, Thor had wanted to try, had been curious to know what Galar enjoyed so much about the act. However, he had the fear that allowing himself to be penetrated in any way would make him argr, that if they were discovered, that if it was known he had gone that far, the situation would be irreparable. But, much like the idea of being with a man at all, time wore down his fears, eased his hesitation.

He waited until he had Galar splayed out on his bed one night, working him carefully with his hand before he pulled away. Galar groaned at the loss of contact and friction, but when Thor didn’t offer up a teasing chuckle or go back to touching him, he opened his eyes, looking worried. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Thor shook his head, “No, I...wanted to try something different.” Without waiting for a response, he shifted down, and carefully, but deliberately, eased himself between Galar’s legs.

At that, Galar sat up, eyes widening in alarm. “Thor, wait. You don’t have to.”

“I know.” Thor looked up and fixed Galar with a firm look that quelled his protests. “I want to.” Whatever else he might be, whatever else he might do, Thor was still a prince of Asgard, still born and trained to command and rule and no one would make him do what he did not wish to. That privilege carried through his voice and Galar nodded, settling back against the pillows.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Thor made himself comfortable and then reached for the man’s erection. With his hand wrapped firmly around the base, Thor lowered his head until the head of Galar’s cock was a scant inch from his mouth. He hesitated for a long, long moment before closing the final bit of distance, brushing his lips over the head.

His first thought was that it wasn’t all that strange. The flesh under his lips was firmer than he was expecting, for all that he knew what it felt like to his hand, and the skin almost surprisingly soft. He parted his lips slightly and pressed another open-mouthed kiss to Galar’s flesh.

The taste was...different, not really any better or worse than a woman, just...different. Thor recalled the things other lovers had done to him, and swiped across the slit with the tip of his tongue. Galar bucked beneath him, biting off a curse. Grinning, Thor repeated the action, continuing the motion until he’d licked down the entire length of the cock in his hand. He took his time, tasting and learning the texture with his mouth, Galar muttering encouragement the whole time.

Finally, he pulled back and licked his lips. Then he took a deep breath and bent his head forward once more, closing his mouth around the head of Galar’s cock. The man moaned quietly, and careful to keep his lips over his teeth, Thor slid further down. It was larger than he had anticipated, and Thor had to go slowly, pressing his tongue to the underside of Galar’s sex as he moved.

He stopped before the head hit the back of his throat, but gagged anyway, and Galar fidgeted. “Don’t,” he urged. “Don’t try. It’s good like this.”

Thor lowered his gaze, his eyes half-closed, and then hollowed his cheeks and sucked. He tried to remember the little tricks Galar had worked on him, or the ones that women had used, teasing with his tongue, paying attention to the head, humming a bit. Galar’s hips moved in shallow thrusts, keeping Thor mostly in control, and he started to slowly bob his head. His hand still worked the base of Galar’s cock, but his other hand, his free hand, snaked between Galar’s thighs as well, cupping and fondling his balls like Galar had done for him that first night. At that, Galar had gasped and arched his back, his legs falling open wider, and Thor knew he was close. Suddenly Galar’s squirming grew insistent, and then there was a hand firmly pulling him off, along with a hoarse, “Thor, stop.”

Thor had pulled off, his lips saliva-slicked and red, and he had watched momentarily as Galar fisted his cock to finish himself. Still in a daze, Thor pushed Galar’s hand away and did it himself, giving Galar several long, hard strokes before the man gasped and shuddered. His seed flowed hot over Thor’s hand, and Thor understood that Galar had pulled him off so that he wouldn’t finish in Thor’s mouth.

A tiny shiver ran through Thor at the thought of that. Galar did it so naturally, like the taste and the sensation of it didn’t bother him at all—in fact, he _enjoyed_ them. Would Thor be just the same one day?

When Galar’s cock began to soften in his hand, Thor let go, sitting back as Galar fetched him something to wipe his hand on.

~*~

“Like this?” Loki asked.

“Yes,” Fandral breathed. “Just give me a moment.”

Loki nodded, though Fandral couldn’t see him. They were in Loki’s rooms, both of them naked, on his bed. Fandral was on all fours in the center of the bed, his weight braced on his bent arms. Behind him, Loki was kneeling between his spread legs, one hand resting on Fandral’s hip, the other between his buttocks, two fingers slipped inside of him, holding still and waiting for Fandral to tell him to proceed.

Since that first day, they had been together many times and in many ways. Loki’s only concern was of being caught, and since Fandral assured he would say nothing, Loki was remarkably free to indulge his desires. Fandral proved to be a knowledgeable and eager teacher, answering any questions Loki had as he explored what he preferred. In that time, Loki and Fandral had traded off pleasuring each other with hands, mouths, and bodies. They had also had penetrative sex several times, Loki even allowing Fandral to take him twice. Each time, Fandral had done all of the preparation, for himself and Loki. Given that Fandral had far more experience than he, Loki allowed it, watching and picking up the tips and tricks Fandral showed him. But nothing was a true substitute for actual experience, so when he found the other man earlier that evening, it was with the express purpose of learning to do this for himself.

They were going slow, taking their time, Fandral explaining each ste, and Loki paid attention carefully. He doubted he would need more than one session to get the hang of it, but he wasn’t about to risk injuring a partner through pride or ignorance.

“All right,” Fandral said, bracing himself a little. “Now you’re going to want to spread your fingers a bit. Slowly, so that,” he broke off, groaning. “Yes, yes, like that. The point is to, ah, take your time, loosen the m-muscle.” He gasped his way through the explanation as Loki followed actions to suit words, pumping his fingers and scissoring them like he’d seen Fandral do.

“More?” he asked after a few minutes of watching and listening to Fandral moan and twitch beneath him.

“ _Please_.”

Loki grinned and withdrew his hand, adding more oil from the vial on the beside table. “I think I like hearing that word from you,” he mused, bunching his three longest fingers together and sliding them slowly inside Fandral, taking care to give him time to adjust.

“You would,” Fandral groaned. “Yes, that’s good. Now keep doing what you were doing before.”

Loki obliged, patiently working Fandral open until he was convinced that whenever he chose to, he could simply remove his hand and slide in. He began to pull his hand free when he stopped. Fandral groaned again. “Don’t stop now.”

“Before, when you did this to me,” Loki said, not paying attention to the other man’s pleas. “That spot you found....”

Fandral managed to drag out a chuckle. “So you remembered that?” He sounded far too smug for the position he was in, and Loki spread his fingers wide, making the other man gasp.

“Yes, I do.”

“All right...just...ugh, just....” Loki relaxed his hand and Fandral sighed. “Curl your hand down.” Loki rotated his wrist, twisting his fingers inside Fandral until his palm was facing down. “Good, now pull almost all the way out. Shouldn’t be hard to find, just move your—” He cut himself off again, a strangled noise escaping him as his body bucked beneath Loki. “That would be it,” he gasped.

Gently, Loki massaged the small lump he’d found with his fingertips. Every press, every pass caused a corresponding curse or oath from Fandral, until he was _writhing_ beneath Loki’s attentions, skin flushed and sheened with sweat. Loki carefully filed the knowledge away. There was something heady about causing another to fall apart under one’s touch. Having the power to completely undo another person with a mere caress was it’s own pleasure, and not something he would overlook. Until now, he’d only been semi-hard, but with the sounds and pleading Fandral was uttering, his cock swelled until his erection was nearly painful.

“Could you come just from this?” he wondered aloud, leaning forward to nip his shoulder, and Fandral nodded his head almost frantically.

“Yes, and if you’re going to, please don’t stop. I’m close, so close, please.”

Loki pulled his hand free and Fandral nearly sobbed with frustration. Wiping his hand on the sheets—he would have to use an old trick and clean them later, before the copious use of oil ruined them—and grasped both of Fandral’s hips, centering himself behind the man. He lined his cock up, and after resting the head against Fandral’s entrance for but a moment, slid all the way in one smooth motion.

Fandral moaned long and low, and even Loki had to steady himself for a moment before pulling nearly all the way out and then thrusting back in again. With the next roll of his hips, Fandral pushed back to meet him, the two settling into a rhythm. He didn't think either of them was going to last particularly long. He’d been teased with release for far longer than this, but the novelty of this experience pushed him closer to the edge than he would have otherwise been.

He reached a hand down between Fandral’s legs, curling his fingers around his cock and stroking evenly along with each thrusts of his hips. It didn’t make much of that, Fandral crying out and pushing into Loki’s hand when Loki added a little twist of his hand. The clench of his body around Loki pulled Loki into his orgasm right after him. Loki tried to resist, to hold out a little longer, but couldn’t, his hips stuttering and then slamming into Fandral as he emptied himself deep inside the other man. Fandral didn’t quite collapse to the bed, but lowered his shoulders until his chest was supporting him. Knowing the position was likely uncomfortable, and not wanting make Fandral support his weight as well, Loki slowly withdrew, paying attention to the sounds Fandral made. After they were separated, they fell down beside each other, regaining their breath.

Loki reached out, wiping up a smear of come from Fandral belly, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger before offering them to Fandral to lick clean. “We should do this again,” he murmured.

Fandral, mouth occupied with Loki’s fingers, merely nodded, but from the glint in his eyes, Loki knew he was more than willing.

~*~

When Galar had left to return home to the side of his ailing father, Thor had felt grieved for two reasons. The first was that he was genuinely sorry for the other man’s misfortune, but the second was that it left him somewhat at a loss. He could still take women for lovers easily, and he did so, but he enjoyed being with another man. And now that he’d grown accustomed to it, he was loathe to give it up. Before he left, Galar assured him that there were others, that it wouldn’t be nearly as hard to find another lover as he thought it was going to be. He just merely had to look.

It had again taken him time to work up his courage, but when he did, he found that Galar had been right. Privately, he suspected that Galar might have told some of the other guards that he trusted—a thought which made Thor’s blood run cold, though he knew there was no ill intent behind the action—for it didn’t seem to take much to get a guard to respond. Those who weren’t inclined that way always accepted his apology if they asked what he was looking at, believing his claim that he’d merely been thinking, not paying attention to where he was looking. Those who were inclined invariably sought him out, when they were alone, assured of privacy and in such a way that _they_ could excuse their actions if they had misread the situation.

Thor didn’t grow as attached to any of the other men he took to his bed as he had to Galar. There was Dagr, more serious than Galar had been, but more intense for it, showing Thor that a mind could be terrifying deadly and still crave the touch of another man. And then there had been Ketill, who reminded Thor intensely of Fandral with his penchant for laughter. It was with him that Thor shed his last lingering hesitations. It wouldn’t be quite right to say he ever withheld anything from his lover’s, but under Ketill he learned to give freely. Going down to his knees and taking Ketill in his mouth was easier with his strong fingers in Thor's hair, his bright eyes smiling down, his lips pouring forth praise and encouragement.

Njall had been the closest in Thor to size, with a bulk that his other male lovers had lacked. Being caged against his body had been exciting, but stirred feelings that Thor wanted to keep buried. To go down on his knees of his own volition was one thing. To be forced down, to _want_ to be forced down was quite another.

And with his current male lover, Sigurd, Thor came to closer to actually fucking the man than he had with any other. They had offered, many, many times, and had been disappointed by his refusal. It wasn’t that Thor didn’t want to, but he respected these men, and no matter what they professed, he couldn’t bring himself to do that to them. They might not see it that way, but in his mind, it was still a shade too shameful for him to contemplate.

That didn’t mean they had left him entirely ignorant of the process. Ketill and Sigurd had both shown him, and he had watched—and that was another pleasure he had discovered, watching someone else bring themselves to completion while he did the same—as they showed him what was necessary, as they _enjoyed_ themselves while doing so.

And deep within him, the desire to feel the same burned within him.

Sigurd seemed to understand Thor’s reluctance, nodding knowingly, and he had asked Thor if he was willing to try something similar. Thor agreed, and so found himself watching intently as Sigurd coated his fingers in oil and then smoothed it over Thor’s cock. “You said—”

“I know,” Sigurd interrupted smoothly. “Trust me.”

Thor hesitated, but nodded, holding his tongue even as Sigurd turned to face away from him. He watched as Sigurd reached an oil-slick hand between his legs and forced himself to say nothing. Had the man not understood? He was about to speak up when he saw that Sigurd was smoothing oil over the inside of his thighs, then across his balls. Thor frowned, puzzled for a moment before understanding began to dawn.

Sigurd, watching from over his shoulder, beckoned Thor closer. “Come here.”

Thor shuffled to his knees, coming up behind the man as he spread his legs a bit wider. Carefully, he guided his cock between Sigurd’s thighs, high enough so that it pressed up against his balls. Then Sigurd closed his legs, holding them together firmly and trapping Thor’s cock in between.

The constriction was sudden, but more importantly, it felt _good_. Thor would have been satisfied with how things had been going, but he couldn’t deny that he had missed this with his male lovers, even if he hadn’t been willing to indulge in it. “Tight,” Thor hissed, his hands immediately falling to grasp Sigurd’s hips.

His first thrust was more instinct than anything else, just the simple desire to feel himself slide in and out of someone else. The second was more deliberate, and by the third he was fully committed. He was conscious to keep pressure against Sigurd, so that with each stroke he rubbed against the man. Sigurd only stopped him once, pausing his motions to apply more oil, but after he was done, he nodded for Thor to continue and simply braced himself.

Thor curled himself over Sigurd’s back, exulting in the easy slide of flesh, the soft grunts he pulled from the man. Such a small difference, yet such a big one. There was no shame like this, no reason for him to feel guilty about this want.

Too soon, he could feel himself approaching the edge and he didn’t have the will to try and delay it. Instead, he reached down to wrap his fist around Sigurd’s cock, stroking it as he adjusted the angle of his thrusts slightly. Sigurd moaned, bucking slightly at the contact, until he came with a bitten off cry and shudder moments before Thor did.

He pulled away slowly, allowing Sigurd to move to the side and lower himself to the bed without having to lie in their mess. Thor flopped down next to him, pleasantly tired. “What a wonderful idea,” he mumbled.

Sigurd chuckled softly. “I thought you might approve.”

“Very much so.” Thor sighed and heaved himself to his feet, going to fetch cloths to wipe themselves with, taking Sigurd’s when he was done and tossing both into a corner. Then he slid into the bed, as Sigurd quietly gathered his things. That was something Thor truly did regret about this--whereas no one would think twice about a woman staying in his quarters all night, he could not risk the same with a man. They always had to leave, skulking away silently less they be discovered.

They bid each other a silent goodnight, and then Sigurd slipped from his rooms, leaving Thor alone.

~*~

With one last tug, Loki secured the knot and sat back on his heels. “Test it.”

With his arms stretched above his head, Fandral pulled against the ropes, the muscles in his arms and shoulders bulging as he strained against the bindings. It was not some token effort either. Fandral was a warrior of Asgard, and despite his relatively lithe frame, was quite strong. The bed didn’t groan or the ropes creak or anything so fanciful, but it was clear when he sagged back that he’d given it his best effort. More effort would likely have required a genuine fear for his safety.

Satisfied, Loki nodded and moved back, pondering his next move. Something like this had been on his mind for awhile now, though he’d hesitated to bring it up. When he eventually had, he’d been more than a little stunned by the alacrity that Fandral had accepted with, but with the offer so openly proffered, he would’ve been a fool to refuse. Still, it wouldn’t do to rush headlong into this, and he’d taken his time procuring strong lengths of black silk rope and practicing knots until he could be sure that he was doing everything correctly.

When he’d seen them, Fandral had raised a brow at the ropes and asked why Loki simply didn’t use magic. Loki had simply shaken his head. He couldn’t exactly articulate why he wanted to use physical bonds, even though magic would be far easier; his only answer was that it felt right.

Tugging lightly on the ropes now, more a tease than anything else, Fandral grinned up at him. “Now what?”

“Now?” Loki smirked and threw a leg across Fandral’s chest, scooting up and raising himself on his knees. “Now you put that mouth to good use.”

The amusement on Fandral’s face didn’t dim even as he opened his mouth obediently and took Loki in. It was more awkward that way, Fandral unable to use his hands or arms to help, but the sight of the other man struggling to do as he was bid, as best as he could even while being hindered, almost helpless, left Loki panting.

He finished in Fandral’s mouth, staying in place and forcing the man to swallow around him. Then he moved off of him, giving Fandral a chance to breathe before Loki gently licked a trace of his seed from the corner of his mouth and then kissed him. His friend grinned again, and then looked hopefully down his body where his erection lay against his belly.

“Not yet,” Loki said before sliding off the bed to get the oil.

He took his time preparing Fandral, always promising later when the other man begged for his touch. Loki fucked Fandral twice, and would have felt cruel if Fandral hadn’t remained hard as long as his body allowed. The entire time, he never asked Loki to stop or said that he wanted the encounter to be over. When Loki finally did work him to completion, he came so hard Loki was afraid he would pass out.

As Fandral came down from the high of his orgasm, Loki loosened and removed the ropes, then fetched warm washcloths and cleaned him, being careful around sensitive areas when he twitched. A simple spell cleaned his sheets and then he slid beneath them, wrapping himself along Fandral’s back.

“You enjoyed that.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes?” Fandral replied. “I thought that was obvious.”

“Why?” Loki didn’t quite understand it. He supposed, for someone he loved—and his mind very carefully shied away from Thor—he would submit that way if they wanted it, but he had no real desire to do it for anyone else. At least, not the way Fandral had. He had no trouble offering up his body for pleasure, delighted in seeing his partners satisfied, but to allow another to with him as they wished, to have no control over what happened....

Fandral hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t know,” he eventually said. “I just do. There’s something...freeing about it, I guess you could say.”

Loki turned that over in his mind, and nodded. He might not completely understand it, but he could see where Fandral was coming from. If one trusted one’s partner, to trust that they would see you taken care of could be soothing. “Do many feel that way?”

“As I have yet to sleep my way through _all_ of Asgard, I don’t know. Ow!” He rubbed his ear where Loki had nipped him. “What do you want me to say? I don’t know. Some do, some do not. I would say there are less that enjoy submitting than having control, but that’s to be expected. Why do you ask?”

“No reason really.” Loki shrugged. “I have been with some women who seemed to enjoy a little struggle, but nothing like that. It struck me as unusual and I wondered if it was—” He cut himself off, realizing what he had been about to say.

Fandral turned over, regarding him with a frown. “Wondered if it was what? Wrong?” Loki sighed and nodded. “Does it feel wrong to you? Do you feel like you’ve done something to be ashamed of?”

“No.”

“Do you feel like I should be ashamed for what I did?”

“Of course not!”

“Then it’s not wrong.” Fandral settled back down, facing Loki and wrapping a hand around the back of his neck. “I forget, sometimes, how new this is to you, that so far I have been your only experience.”

“Hardly,” Loki huffed.

“You know what I mean.” He pursed his lips, thinking. “Being with others would do you some good, I think.”

Loki half sat up in surprise. “You wish to end this?”

“No, of course not.” Fandral laughed. “I’d be a fool to do that. But still, it’s not like we’re promised to one another or madly in love.” He paused. “You’re not, right?”

“Don’t be absurd.”

“Ouch, my pride may never recover.”

“Give it a few minutes.”

Fandral laughed. “Right, then, as I said. More experience would be good for you, and I’ve deprived others of my charms for long enough. I can show you where to go, perhaps introduce you to some people. We’ll both get to have some fun, and if we’re in the mood, I’ll always be up for another go. How does that sound to you?”

“Hm.” Loki thought about it. He had to admit, the idea of new lovers was appealing. And if Fandral were willing to vouch for them, then Loki was reasonably confident that he could trust them. “We could try,” he eventually said.

“Excellent.” The grin in Fandral’s voice was readily apparent. “Give me a few days and then you and I shall go out and enjoy ourselves.”

“Very well.” Loki was tempted to to offer Fandral a more physical show of gratitude, but he _was_ tired. Instead, he settled for kissing him, deeply, more tenderly than usual, and enjoyed the unexpected rush of fondness he felt for the other man.

~*~

Steam wafted up from the marble tub filled with hot water, and Thor sank back with a contented sigh. For several long minutes, he simply enjoyed the feel of the water as it relaxed him, soothing the aches in his muscles. It had been a long day, and he was tired, but pleasantly so. He’d eaten, and once he was clean, he wanted nothing more than to fall into bed for a well-deserved rest.

Thor washed briskly, scrubbing hard enough with the cloth to make his skin smart, then washed his hair, dunking underneath the water to rinse the soap away. He stood, drained the tub and dried himself with a thick towel, raking the wet strands of his hair back and away from his face. Dropping his towel on the floor, he strode from the bath chamber and across his bedroom. He didn’t bother to put on even a light pair of sleep pants before he slid, naked, between the cool silk sheets.

Expecting to just sink into sleep, he frowned when that didn’t happen after a few moments. Thor shifted, restless, trying to find another position, but nothing helped. He was still too tense, wound up from the day, but there was one thing that usually helped. Pushing the sheet down below his hips, slowly stroking his cock—which responded far too readily, the traitor—with one hand while he reached into a drawer in the table beside his bed for some oil. He worked the cork free, removed his other hand long enough to pour some oil into it, then set the bottle down on the table. After rubbing his hands together to both coat them evenly and warm the oil, he reached for himself again.

Moving languidly, Thor took his time, stroking slowly and just enjoying the feel of his hands on his cock. There was something about the slight roughness of the callus on his fingers that thrilled him, that sent a naughty frisson running through his body. He laid back, closed his eyes, and allowed himself to imagine. Most times, he pictured a beautiful woman with him, touching and teasing. Occasionally, it was Sif he thought of, knowing her firm, capable hands would feel exquisite upon him. Sometimes, it was another man he thought of, remembering the feel of hands upon him that knew _exactly_ how to squeeze and fondle.

And even more rarely, on nights like tonight, Thor would reach for the fantasy of a touch he’d never felt—long, elegantly tapered fingers, a lean body and mischievous green eyes.

It was folly. He knew that, even as he groaned and grew impossibly hard, impossibly thick. He _wanted_. He wanted so _badly_ , and that the fruit was forbidden simply made him want it _more_.

Would his brother look at him like he had that girl from Vanaheim? Like Thor had seen him look at others? Would Loki touch him with the same confidence, the same air of command? Would Loki lie back and beckon Thor to him or would he instead push Thor down onto the mattress and claim him?

Thor groaned again, and no amount of tossing his head in denial, of telling himself to stop, could halt the flood of desire and lust. His grip on his cock tightened and he held himself around the base to keep from coming. Not yet. He didn’t want this to end so quickly. It was something he allowed himself so infrequently that he couldn’t bear to have it ended so soon.

He took a deep breath, to try and steady his racing heartbeat and heaving chest. He could feel the beads of sweat pop out along his skin as he reached down to cup his balls, rolling them gently in his hand. He stroked and kneaded and it was so _good_. Loki would know how to do this, would hold Thor here, like this, until Thor begged him for an end to the exquisite torment.

And though Thor was biting back his cries at the pleasure, was thrusting his hips up in short, sharp jerks, it still wasn’t enough.

Hesitatingly, he slid his hand lower, his breath catching. This was something he’d never let himself experience yet, neither for himself or with another. He’d never been quite that intimate with a man, though close, so very close that he wondered if it were inevitable, only a matter of time. Those he had been with had told him how it was done, and he’d watched as others had worked themselves open, but it was never something he’d partaken in, not even when he was alone. He’d considered it before, yet each time, and even now, merely considering the thought, shame burned through him. He could feel his cheeks grow hot with it, and a tendril of fear wormed its way into his chest.

He _should not_ want this. He was Thor, son of Odin, heir to the throne of Asgard, and he, of all people, should not want to be fucked like a woman.

By his _brother_ , no less.

Slowly, he drew his legs up until his knees were bent and his feet flat on the bed. If anyone were to come in now, everything would still look completely normal. He should stop now, finish pleasuring himself to his climax and go to sleep. But he _wanted_. The fact that his erection was still full, his cock standing hard and proud, was testament enough to that.

He slid his fingers lower.

At the first brush of his fingers over his entrance, he jerked his hand back, his lungs heaving in sudden panic. He couldn’t do this, couldn’t lower and debase himself this way, even if there was no one here to see it. He’d never be able to look anyone in the eye again if they saw him like this, if they saw him even contemplating the idea. And everyone would be ashamed to look upon him.

Everyone, save Loki.

Loki, his brother, his best friend would never judge him. Loki, whom Thor wanted to be so much more with, would always understand. He would hold Thor, would whisper to him that it was all right.

Would tell him to keep going.

Thor whimpered and slid his hand back down. Yes, it was easier if he imagined that, imagined Loki murmuring into his ear with hot, wet breaths to _do it_ , to show his brother how much Thor really did want him, how he would do anything for him.

This time Thor did not jerk his hand back. He kept it there, simply resting for a moment before slowly circling, spreading the oil still on his fingers onto the tight ring of muscle. He would need more if he was to go any further, and swallowing hard, he let go of himself to reach for the oil again. A liberal amount was poured into his cupped palm and spread over his fingers, ensuring they were fully coated. Then he reached down again, and pressed a single fingertip more firmly against his entrance.

Slowly he pushed, exerting more pressure until his finger slipped inside, breaching him to the second knuckle. Thor froze, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. He’d done it. He’d actually done it. He waited for the crushing wall of shame, but it didn’t come. There was a lingering sense of it, and more acute embarrassment, but in the moment, he didn’t feel as badly as he’d thought he would.

Carefully, he slid his finger back out to the first knuckle and then slid it back in, sinking it in all the way to his hand. It was an…odd sensation, not exactly painful, but not really comfortable. He tried moving his hand again, trying to remember what he’d been shown, sliding his finger in and out until he felt the ring of muscle begin to relax. That was better, but still not the heights of pleasure he’d been told about and seen other men achieve, and it still did nothing to fill the empty ache inside of him.

He removed his hand altogether and this time tried two fingers. Now there was a burning sensation as he was stretched and the feeling of discomfort grew. Thor tried to be patient, turning and curling his fingers the way he’d been shown, scissoring them to open himself up the way he would need to if he were to ever actually do this. But it still wasn’t right. Tears of frustration welled up in his eyes. Years of yearning and wanting, and _this_ was the cause of so much anguish? Had he only known, he could have spared himself all the grief and fear.

But his mental image of Loki urged him not to give up. There could be pleasure from this. That much had been impressed firmly upon him when he’d voiced his doubts. And he’d seen a man bring himself to completion just from that alone. Now, he just had to find the spot himself. Thor let out a breath, let his legs fall open wider, and despite the awkwardness of the angle, sought of the small, firm lump that was, apparently, the source of so much pleasure.

Thor pushed his fingers in, deep, curling them upwards. He’d done that with women and they had liked this, and with no other experience, he figured he should start there, with something familiar. But it didn’t feel particularly _good,_ just a sort of pressure on his insides. After a few minutes, his erection was flagging and he was beginning to feel extremely self-conscious. Thor went to pull his hand out, utterly disappointed, and the tip of his fingers brushed against something. His whole body jerked as a groan spilled from between his lips. For one heart-stopping moment, he froze, wanting to laugh in relief and weep from the almost too-good sensation.

Carefully, he moved his fingers again and had to bite his lip against the cry that built in his throat. Slowly he began to work out a rhythm, alternating between stroking that spot and then simply twisting and moving the now three fingers inside himself when the pleasure was too much. He squirmed and writhed on the bed, his chamber filling with small, needy sounds. Oh, if he’d only _known_. So much _fear_ all this time and it felt so _good_.

With one hand working inside him, he wrapped his other around his cock and stroked in time with the thrusting of his other hand. The sensation caused his hips to thrust off the bed, seeking more, _more_ of everything, and he was aware, vaguely, of muttering his brother’s name. That was risky—too risky—but he couldn’t care. He wanted Loki there, wanted Loki’s hands on him and in him, and the thought that he never could had him almost sobbing as he came.

Thor slumped back, panting, overcome and overwrought, throwing his arm across his eyes as he eased his hand out of himself, whimpering openly at the loss. Why? Why must he be tormented by these desires? Why couldn’t he be satisfied with the bevy of women available to him, or even the smaller selection of men? Why must he want the one person forever denied to him, the one person he would be castigated and shunned for wanting if anyone ever found out?

Letting out a shaky breath, he slid to the edge of the bed and stood up on equally shaky legs. Almost tottering, he made his way over the bath chamber and slumped against the counter. His reflection in the mirror caught his attention, and he took a minute to look at himself.

His hair was tangled and snarled from tossing on the pillow, damp where it clung to the edge of his face. His cheeks were bright with color, his lips red and swollen from biting them, and his pupils wide with the remnants of ecstasy. He looked well and truly fucked, and he’d done it all to himself by thinking of his _brother_.

He let out a humorless, bitter laugh and dropped his head down, catching sight of his still-peaked nipples and the come smeared low across his belly. It would embarrassing if anyone were to see him now, humiliating if they knew he’d done it to himself, disgusting if they knew _why_. But even though he’d earn the scorn of the whole of Asgard if this were public knowledge, he couldn’t help but feel Loki would still stand by him. Not that Loki _should_ suffer such indignities, but he’d never truly abandoned Thor before, and he couldn’t see brother doing that now.

He flexed the hand covered in his come, feeling the unpleasant pull of the semi-dried fluid. He went to reach to dip it in a basin of water, but stopped, fingers hovering just over the surface as a realization hit him. Thor could never have Loki the way he wanted, but there was no reason he couldn’t have the fantasies. Not even Heimdall could see into his thoughts. His actions, yes, and it was too late now to go back and undo those. But not his thoughts; those were his own, completely hidden, completely private. Why couldn’t he take this for himself, as long as he never acted on it?

Pulling his hand back, he stared at it. If…if Loki were here, beside him now, what would he do? Would he help Thor clean himself with soap and water or would he…would he…? Thor swallowed thickly, and brought his trembling fingers up before his lips. Something else he’d never done, too afraid to even try, although Galar’s enjoyment of it had piqued his interest. But Loki…. Loki could _make_ him, and Thor knew without a doubt he’d obey anything his brother told him to do because it was _Loki_ telling him. If he was going to have fantasies, he might as well make them _good_.

Thor closed his eyes. _Open your mouth_ , Loki would say, and Thor did. _Clean your fingers. Lick them. Suck them._ Eyes still closed, he did, though he flinched at the first taste of bitter salt. He did a thorough job, licking and sucking until he’d removed every trace from his hand and it was near dripping with saliva. And the whole time, he imagined Loki at his side, offering whispered encouragements and praise. And though they weren’t real, Thor still flushed with pride and pleasure.

By the time he was done, his cock was half-hard again, and he imagined Loki would be proud, so proud of him.

He washed his hands quickly, and swiped a wet cloth across his belly, over his cock and balls—trying to ignore the stimulation—and between his buttocks, wiping away the last traces of the oil. As he slid back into bed, his eyes were heavy and sleep really was just moments away.

Thor fell asleep, dreaming he held a smaller, dark-haired form against him.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay!
> 
> As always, thank you to my beta, [AccursedSpatula](http://archiveofourown.org/users/AccursedSpatula/pseuds/AccursedSpatula) who fixes all my mistakes and helps me suss out ideas.

“Brother!”

Loki paused midstep, turning to face face his brother who was coming down the hallway, dirty and travel-stained. “Thor,” he said. “I thought you were out hunting and would be back for another day.”

Thor nodded. “Indeed, that was the plan, but we returned early.”

“And was your hunt successful?”

With a widening grin, Thor nodded emphatically, and Loki couldn’t help a smile of his own. His brother’s moods were more mercurial these days, and when he was in a good mood it was infectious. “So what brings you back early, if things were going so well?”

“I hoped you would ask.” Thor slipped his pack off his shoulder, setting it carefully on the floor. “Close your eyes and hold out your hands, Brother.”

“We’re a little old for surprises, don’t you think?” Loki drawled, but Thor just raised an eyebrow. With a sigh, Loki did as Thor asked, wondering what Thor had brought back for him. He probably shouldn’t be so skeptical. Thor often brought back rare and hard to find ingredients from his travels across the realms, for which Loki was quite grateful as it spared him the trouble and expense of finding them.

Fur was what touched his hands, not unusual, but what Loki wasn’t expecting was for it to be _warm_. And then it moved, and Loki nearly dropping the thing, eyes flying open as Thor chuckled and admonished, “Don’t drop him, Loki. He’s quite small.”

There was a puppy in Loki’s hands, clutched awkwardly where Loki had fumbled not to drop it. Not a dog, he realized after a moment, but a wolf. It squirmed and wriggled and whined, seeking a more comfortable position. Loki glared at Thor. “What is this?”

“We found him on our hunt,” Thor said, running a gentle finger over the top of the pup’s head, scratching lightly behind its ears. “We think his mother abandoned him because he was a runt. He looked so small and helpless that we couldn’t leave him there.”

“So you brought him back?”

“It would not be the first time our home has opened its arms this way.”

Loki drew back, stung at the allusion to his own origin. Fury rose in him and he tried to shove the pup into Thor’s hands. “And this is why you give him to me? Because one runt of a creature would want to care for another?”

Thor’s eyes widened slightly and he cupped one giant hand under the wolf to keep it from falling. “I didn’t think you would be angry,” he said quietly. “Yes, I thought you might have some sympathy for him, but I thought you might like him. Raise him and train him well, and he will be an ever-loyal companion, an ally when you need him.”

Loki knew Thor was thinking of the assault, and he couldn’t stop himself from wondering if things would have been different had there been a loyal animal, senses so much sharper than his own, by his side. It was unlikely there would be a repeat of the incident, not now when the Allfather’s displeasure was so well known and Loki’s own skills had grown, but still....

Cautiously, he reached out a finger, which was promptly swiped by a damp, pink tongue. He took the puppy from Thor’s hands, holding it gingerly, weighing it carefully in his hands. “A wolf, Thor?”

“I did not think Father would allow me to bring home a bilgesnipe,” Thor said seriously, then chuckled at Loki’s look. “Truthfully, what finer animal could there be? Fierce, intelligence, proud—he suits you, Brother.”

Loki raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, shifting the puppy to allow it to sniff him. He had to admit, it was a rather cute beast, all gangly limbs and oversized head and paws. It was also very thin, sharp bones and joints visible through its thin fur. Had Thor not come across it, Loki was quite sure it wouldn’t have lasted much longer.

“Fine,” he muttered, holding the pup close to his chest. “I suppose I’ll keep him.”

~*~

With much care from Loki, the pup, Fenrir—indeed male as Thor has said—recovered his strength in short order, and that spelled the end of Loki’s peace and quiet. He was, for lack of a better description, an unholy terror. Fenrir wasn’t _bad_ , all things considered; in fact, he was extraordinarily affectionate for being a wild animal, but after the first week, Loki learned to keep anything he wanted intact off the floor and out of his reach. The pup had near boundless amounts of energy and he ran Loki ragged just watching him.

Thankfully, he was also intelligent, as Thor had also proclaimed him, and Loki was able to train him to use a basket of rushes—he would worry about teaching him to go outside later. The inevitable accidents Fenrir did have were easily taken care of by magic. He played and tumbled and ran himself to exhaustion chasing after a ball that Loki magicked to roll away whenever he got close, and then he would whine and paw at Loki’s legs until Loki allowed him to settle into his lap while he read or worked. Loki found that surprisingly...pleasant, often petting the pup without realizing it. And at night, no matter how much he tried to train him otherwise, Fenrir curled up next to him on his bed, a warm, fuzzy weight.

It rather put a damper on Loki’s sex life, but he supposed there were worse reasons for that to happen.

There was some ribbing from his friends when he showed up, trailed by a gangly wolf pup, and despite Fenrir’s habit of nipping at hands thrust toward him—or perhaps because of it, the Warriors Three were an odd bunch—his presence was quickly accepted.

Fenrir didn’t remain small for long. With regular feeding, the runty pup grew quickly, and after several months there was no evidence that he’d been left to die for being small and weak. Too big to fit on Loki’s lap, he curled around his feet, and slept at the foot of Loki’s bed. Loki was pleased by how well he did, and if he occasionally slipped Fenrir a few slivers of Idunn’s apples, could anyone really fault him for it?

He didn’t begin to grow concerned about Fenrir’s size until he realized that the wolf was already much bigger than an average wolf, and didn’t appear to be finishing growing, not if his gangly, adolescent frame was to be believed. He frowned down at his wolf and went to find his brother. Thor was, not surprisingly, in the training yards. Loki waited until he’d finished a series of forms before going over.

“Thor?”

“Yes?”

“Tell me, when you found Fenrir, did anyone you were with happen to mention anything unusual about the wolves in the area?”

The slight dart of Thor’s eyes to the side was enough for Loki. “What is he?” Thor mumbled something and Loki crossed his arms. “Thor, look at him! His size isn’t normal! What did you fail to tell me?”

His brother rubbed his nose. “The villagers...may have mentioned that the area was sometimes plagued by direwolves.”

Loki sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “A direwolf. You gave me a direwolf as a pet.”

Thor grinned and dropped down to crouch beside Fenrir, giving the wolf a moment to sniff his hands before scratching his head vigorously. “And a most excellent pet, is he not?”

Only able to keep up his glare for a few moments longer, Loki sighed and crouched down beside Thor. “Yes, he is,” he murmured, rubbing the wolf’s soft ears.

His brother had intended Fenrir as a friend, and as a measure of protection, and Loki didn’t think Thor realized how true that turned out to be. Loki _had_ friends, had people who enjoyed his company, but he was by nature a quiet and private person. Fenrir was content most of the time to sit by his side in silence while Loki read and wrote and experimented, offering no judgment and no criticism of the time Loki spent shut away from others. And as for protection, it was remarkable the number of people who would subtly insult Loki to his face, yet bite their tongues and flee the moment a not even fully grown direwolf bared his teeth and growled at them.

He patted Fenrir one last time and rose. “I’ll let you get back to training,” he told Thor. “I just wanted to know.”

Thor grinned at both of them and rose, waving casually as he turned back to the battered post and lifted his sword once more.

~*~

Most of the time, when Loki wanted to explore other realms, he asked Thor to come with him. As proficient as he was with magic, Thor knew how to adapt to different environments, and provided some much needed muscle to intimidate those people and animals who might otherwise prey on a solitary travelers.

There were times, however, when Loki went off on his own, wanting to be alone for a particular travel. When he decided to open Yggdrasil’s hidden pathways to Jotunheim, Loki went alone, with only Fenrir for company. He wanted to see the realm of his birth, the one he might have grown up in had things been different. He wanted to see it for the first time alone, with no thought to how others might perceive his reactions, and to be unaffected by theirs in return.

Jotunheim might have been beautiful to some, stark, icy landscapes stretching in all directions. Loki only found it barren and cold, devoid of the least bit of life and warmth. Fenrir whined and pressed tightly to his leg, and Loki soothed him with a gentle hand. “Yes, we’ll return home soon,” he murmured. Loki took a deep breath, feeling the cold sear his nose for a moment, and there was a brief—very brief—moment when he felt strangely right in this place. But it passed with the blink of an eye, and he quickly opened the hidden ways once again, stepping through into his chambers. The snow from his boots melted quickly on the marble floor and Loki left it like he left Jotunheim, something not worth his time.

~*~

Standing on a balcony, Thor watched as Loki trained Fenrir, rewarding the wolf with a bit of meat whenever he completed the task that Loki gave him. Loki wasn’t training Fenrir like a pet. No, instead his was honing his wolf’s natural instincts to better compliment his own skills in battle, and judging from the remains of several eviscerated training dummies, things were going quite well.

Thor ignored the old flare of lust that rose when Loki stripped his tunic off to mop at his soaked brow. His desire were wrong, he knew that, knew there was something sick and twisted in his heart, but at this point he had no hope of ever getting rid of it. The long years had dulled it, blunted the sharp pain of it, but it refused to die entirely. The best he could do was try and pretend it wasn’t there, to never, _ever_ let anyone, but especially his brother, know of it. And while he knew he shouldn’t, he couldn’t resist watching at times like this. It was his secret, his shame, and as long as he never acted upon it...why shouldn’t he take this small thing for himself?

The destruction of another dummy refocused his thoughts, and he couldn’t help but grin. Fenrir had been a spur of the moment idea, but he couldn’t deny how well it had worked. Now fully grown, the direwolf was an impressive sight, and never far from his brother’s side. Thor had noticed that there was a subtle shift in the way people spoke about Loki. They still distrusted his magic, but the fact that he had such a impressive companion, worthy of the finest warrior of Asgard, forced people to rethink him a bit. Thor was asked occasionally why he didn’t keep the wolf, and his reply was always that the beast was too difficult for him to handle, and then he enjoyed the look of consternation that crossed the other person’s face. Let them chew on that, on what it meant that a creature too fearsome for the crown prince followed and obeyed a weakling magic user like the most well-trained hound.

Loki looked up and caught sight of him then, offering up a wave and a beckoning gesture. Thor waved back and headed down to join his brother. Perhaps he would agree to come on Thor’s next hunt, and they could take Fenrir with them to test his skills.

~*~

Frigga lays her hand on Odin’s shoulder and he covers it with his own, giving a small squeeze. “Are you sure?” she murmurs.

“I have little choice.” He sighs heavily. “It is not just that I need the sleep more often, I need it for longer periods of time. The throne is a heavy burden, my love, too heavy for an old man such as I.”

“Not that old,” she says fondly, resting her head on his shoulder and kissing his cheek.

“Yes, that old,” he chuckles, and pulls her around his chair and tugs her onto his lap. “It will be good for Thor, to gain the experience he needs slowly over time. The coronation will be a visible sign that I am transferring power to him when I am indisposed. Our people deserve the consistency that will provide.” He runs a gentle hand through her hair, marveling that it has retained its golden hue while he has grown gray and grizzled. But then, Frigga deserves to remain beautiful, aging gracefully through the millennia.

Their people are long-lived, Idunn’s apples—for those who have them—slowing even that, keeping them hale and hearty. But for most of Odin’s subjects, he is the only king they have ever known. Change is difficult enough for the Aesir; Odin must show them a that times _will_ change, but that they will be well looked after when that time comes. Thor _must_ be invested with the power of crown and throne, and Odin _must_ do it before he grows too old and weak.

“Begin the arrangements,” he tells his wife. “I will speak to the boys.”

“They will do you proud.”

“I know.” He holds her a little tighter. “They have grown so well. No man could ask for better sons.”

“Tell them.” Frigga turns her head to look into his eyes. “Tell them that. They know you love them, but you are the Allfather, and your approval means much to them.”

“I will.” Odin has much to plan. His advisors and his council must be told, though he does not need their approval, and he must prepare his sons as best he can for the tasks to come. But for the moment he sits and sets aside the mantle of king, and simply enjoys a quiet moment with the woman he loves.

~*~

Thor paced back and forth before the great doors leading to the throne room, the edge of his cape sweeping across the floor with a soft suruss of sound. He shouldn’t be nervous. There was no reason for him to be nervous. His entire life had been leading up to this point...well, almost this point as he wasn’t actually taking the throne, but it would be the first time he was named officially next in line to rule, and invested with the powers of king when his father was indisposed by the Odinsleep. He wanted to do this right, make his family and his friends proud of him. He knew the rite by heart, had memorized every word and motion. He would swear his oaths and then when his father next needed to rest, he would be king.

“You’re going to wear a groove in the floor if you keep that up.”

A huge smile of relief breaking across his face, Thor turned toward Loki. His brother walked toward him out of the shadows, the light glinting off the gold of his helm and the burnished accents of his clothing. He was in full regalia, as was Thor, and though they were a far cry from one another, Loki’s suited him. He stopped a pace away and eyed Thor.

“Nervous?” he asked.

“Of course not,” Thor laughed, but Loki merely cocked one dark brow, his look knowing. “A little,” Thor admitted, muttering as he stared into the fire pit.

“You’ll be fine,” Loki assured him. Thor shrugged and Loki rolled his eyes. “Fine, don’t believe me, but you’ll see.”

Eyes still trained on the fire, Thor spun Mjolnir in his grasp, the motion repetitive and soothing. “Do you truly think I will be a good king?”

Loki was silent so long that Thor feared to hear his answer. He looked over at his brother, only to find Loki watching him intently. “You have your faults,” Loki said slowly. “As does everyone. Myself, Father, Mother.... But, you have many good qualities, and most importantly, you _want_ to do what is right. And you won’t be alone. You’ll have your friends to turn to, Mother to give you advice, and I will be here for whatever you need. You will be _fine_ , Thor.”

The conviction in Loki’s words settled something deep within Thor, and he felt all his tension, all his anxiety let go, falling off like so much unwanted weight. He smiled, the motion freer and truer than it had been in days. “Nice horns,” he grinned, casting a pointed look at Loki’s helmet.

His brother shrugged nonchalantly. “They make me look taller. Speaking of which, you seem to be absent a few feathers.”

Thor bent to retrieve his helmet from the floor near his feet, placed there after a servant had fetched it for him earlier. He held it in his hand, looking down at the gleaming metal. “It almost doesn’t seem real,” he murmured. “I always knew this day would come, yet....”

Loki hummed his assent. “Growing up, I was often envious of you, that one day you would be king and I that I never would.”

“You never said anything?”

“Why would I?” Loki shook his head faintly. “It would have done no good.” A small smile touched the corners of his mouth. “For a while, I had my doubts, but know that I am truly happy for you, Thor. You are my brother, and I am proud of you. Though we sometimes disagree, and surely will in the future, never doubt that I love you.”

Without thinking, Thor reached out to grip the back of Loki’s neck, his hand closing around the metal of Loki’s helmet. That was something they rarely said to each other, the fact that they loved each other more of a silent understanding than overt declaration. “And I you,” he replied earnestly.

Bright green eyes regarded him a moment longer before Loki suddenly grinned. “Now give us a kiss.”

Thor snatched his hand back as if the metal beneath his flesh had suddenly become searingly hot. There was no way for Loki to know how close to home the words had struck. He covered his awkwardness by sliding his helmet over his head. “It must be nearly time. You gone on ahead. I’ll be there shortly/” Loki gave him a questioning look and Thor nudged his arm. “I’ll be there. Go.”

“All right.” He faded back into the shadows as silently as he had come.

Alone once more, Thor took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. It was time.

~*~

The throne room was crowded with people, and when Thor entered, a thunderous cheer went up. Thor felt the force of it resonating through him, and he lifted his arms, Mjolnir gripped tightly in one fist, eliciting a second, louder round of cheers. He could see his father waiting before the throne, his mother, his brother, his friends arrayed  on the steps, waiting for him. Thor knew he shouldn’t draw this out too much, but it was a spectacle, and a indulging in a little adulation wouldn't go amiss.

Eventually, he made it to the foot of the dias, and dropped to one knee, setting Mjolnir down and then carefully removing his helmet and setting it next to the hammer. He looked up as his father rose to his feet. The sound of Gungnir thudding on the marble silenced the crowd and Odin began to speak.

Thor knew the oaths by heart, had gone over them with parents at length until he’d committed the words to his mind and meaning behind them to his soul. He swore his oaths with a gravity and sincerity he very rarely displayed, and he meant every word of them. Asgard and her people were his responsibility, and he would see them safe at all costs, even his own life.

They were nearly done, Odin reaching the end of his pronouncement when he faltered, words stilling on his tongue, head turned and cocked slightly, as if listening. A glint of light had Thor turning to look at Loki, his brother’s head at nearly the same angle, eyes slightly unfocused. Those scant few seconds were enough to tell Thor that something was very wrong, and he was instantly on his feet, Mjolnir flying to his hand.

Loki was the first to move, nearly flying down the steps of the dias, ripping his helmet off to land with a hollow _clang_ as a staff materialized in his hands. Thor fell into step beside him, trusting Loki to lead the way. Behind them, he could hear the confused rumbling of the crowd, Frigga’s voice trying to calm them. There was the sound of a heavier tread, and Thor knew their father followed, but they were faster.

As they raced through the halls, Thor’s alarm grew as they headed toward the living quarters. He nearly fell as his boot slipped in a pool a blood, and blinding fury filled him at the sight of the maid, her lifeless body crumpled against the wall where she’d been thrown after being run through. Up the hall, he could see another still form and he looked to Loki who’d dropped to one knee, fingers dancing across the marble as he scribed some sort of magic.

“What is happening, Brother?” he growled. Loki looked back at him, lips thin and set in a hard line, but before he could answer, a thin scream cut through the heir.

“They’re heading for the vaults,” he snapped, and in a blink, he and Thor were off again, racing to stop the intruders before any more lives were lost.

They were in just enough time to see a guard thrown into a wall with a sickening crunch. For a moment, Thor was stunned at seeing the three jotnar crowding against the doors to the vaults, attempting to break through them with brute force. His shock passed quickly and he hefted Mjolnir, bringing his arm back and then forward to let it fly, even as Loki rapidly hurled conjured daggers at the frost giants, his staff gone to free both his hands.

The first jotnar fell, skull crushed beneath Mjolnir’s blow, and another bellowed, ripping a dagger from its eye. The third, still unharmed, rushed them, going for Loki. Thor called out a warning, urging Mjolnir to return to his hand faster, and he couldn’t help his shout as the jotun collided with his brother, only to breathe a sigh of relief as Loki’s _image_ flickered and then disappeared. The real Loki, standing safely against the very edge of the hall, just pointed at the third frost giant and then raced down the hall to finish the one he’d injured before. Thor fell upon the last frost giant, still struggling to rise where he’d fallen, and two sharp, hard blows had the body going still beneath him.

Odin stepped into the corridor as Thor and Loki were both rising off their respective kills, his gaze taking in every detail of the scene before him as he came to a stop beside Thor. “I cannot sense any more,” he said quietly to Loki. “Can you?”

“No, it was just these three.”

Odin sighed heavily. “All right. I will have the guards see to the bodies.”

As Thor watched in disbelief, he turned to go. Thor reached out, meaning to physically stop his father, but hesitated at putting a blood-stained hand on Odin’s robes. Instead, he snarled, “That’s it? You’re not going to do anything? You’re going to let them get away with it?”

“Get away with what?” Odin gestured to the bodies. “They’re paid for their crimes already. What more would you have me do?”

“Go to Jotunheim. Find out who was behind this, find out why and keep it from happening again.”

“It will not happen again. They took nothing and we will tighten our security. There is no reason to go to Jotunheim.”

A cold fury gripped Thor as his father turned away again, and that time he reached out a grabbed Odin’s arm, heedless of ruining the fabric of his robes. “I refuse to accept that! They came here, to our _realm_ , into our _home_! They killed the innocent, those who look to _us_ for protection! And you will do nothing?!”

“As will you!” Odin snapped back. “This was nothing more than a foolish, reckless gambit which has failed! We have the heart of their world; without the casket they cannot harm anyone! To do anything else would only provoke further violence and I will not have it!” He looked down at Thor’s hand still gripping his arm, and Thor reluctantly let go, stepping back and glaring at his father.

With a great deal of effort, he forced himself to be still as his father strode away, other guards entering the hall to begin removing bodies. Thor looked down at the spreading pools of blood on the floor. He could feel the rage building again, beating in his chest in time with his heart. With a inarticulate snarl of anger, he strode from the hall as well, needing to be away before he put his fist through the wall or rendered the corpses of the jotnar into pulp.

~*~

It was easy enough to see where Thor had gone. Loki merely followed the trail of destruction.

It led to a dining hall, and Loki sighed imperceptibly at the sight of the overturned table, food and plates and utensils strewn about on the ground. Thor himself was near the balcony, one arm braced out against a column, his hunched shoulders and bowed head a stark outline against the bright sky. There were servants hovering, starting to pick up the ruins of the feast as silently as they could while casting wary glances at the crown prince. Loki waved them off impatiently. Yes, they had a job to do, but there was no point in doing it now when they could simply wait until he’d gotten Thor out of there.

He approached cautiously, his tread heavy enough to alert Thor to his presence, but soft and slow enough that Thor wouldn’t subconsciously see him as a threat. “Feeling better?” he asked mildly as he came up the steps next to his brother.

Thor turned, shamefacedly looking at the destruction he’d wrought. “I was angry,” he muttered.

“No? Really? I never would have guessed.” Hoping humor would further help Thor calm down, Loki kept his tone light and friendly. He settled down on the steps, stretching his legs out and subtly nodding for the Warriors Three and Sif to enter from where they’d been hovering around the doorway. As expected, their friends joked cautiously about the state of the room, coming closer, carefully gauging Thor’s reaction.

“I just can’t believe he will do nothing!” Thor growled, thumping his fist on the column. He very nearly threw himself down beside Loki. “This should not have happened.”

Privately, Loki wondered if Thor knew how right he was. He’d traced the path of the frost giants back to the family quarters, back to _his chambers_. Though it would bear more investigation later, he had a good idea of just how the jotnar had gotten into Asgard and that was something he was not looking forward to explaining to his father.

“I agree,” he said aloud. “And we will make sure it does not happen again.”

“Yes,” Thor said after a moment, getting to his feet again. “Yes, we will.”

“What?” Loki stared up at his brother and then he realized what Thor’s plan was. “No. Thor, no!”

“No?” Fandral asked. “No what?”

“My friends **—** ”

“No!” Loki surged to his feet. “We are _not_ going to Jotunheim!”

Thor grinned. “You said it, not I, Brother.”

“Jotunheim?” At least Sif sounded suitably shocked. “Loki’s right, Thor. We cannot.”

“I agree with Sif,” Hogun added. “It is forbidden.”

“I don’t care.”

“Thor, you _must_ care!” Sif insisted. “Your father’s laws cannot be so lightly cast aside. And of all the laws, this is one you cannot break.”

“Laws?” Thor’s face went dark. “My home was invaded, my people killed. I was in the middle of swearing my oaths to _defend and protect them_ when we were attacked!” He shook his head. “My home, Sif. Had it been any other day, how many more would have lost their lives? If my mother had been by herself? Or my father? Or Loki?” He gestured behind him to where Loki stood.

“I handled myself just fine, thank you,” Loki interjected, slightly annoyed. “So don’t use me as an excuse to conduct your foolhardy crusade.”

Thor’s expression grew flinty, but he shook his head. “I am going to Jotunheim and I’m going to find out who was behind this, if Laufey was involved, if there will be further attacks. Loki, my friends, I would gladly have you by my side, but I will go alone if need be.”

Loki moved forward and grabbed Thor’s arm. “Thor, this is madness!”

For a moment, he thought he might have gotten through. But Thor gently shook his arm free and strode from the halls, leaving Loki and the others staring at each other.

“He’s going to get himself killed,” Fandral muttered.

“And we can’t have that,” Volstagg chuckled and turned to follow after Thor. Hogun and Fandral exchanged a look, then hurried after the other two, leaving just Loki and Sif staring at each other.

Thor and the Warriors Three alone on Jotunheim. They were all going to die. “ _Fuck_ ,” Loki hissed, and with a sharp nod toward Sif, they both darted out the door as well.

~*~

Pausing only long enough to tell a guard to get Odin out to Heimdall’s observatory as quickly as possible, Loki raced to make sure Thor didn’t leave without him. He was not about to let his brother go to that barren, inhospitable wasteland without him. And if the worst came to pass, he could get Thor to safety, even if it meant leaving the others behind **—** and he tried not to dwell on how uneasy that thought made him.

The ride out to the observatory was swift and silent. Loki urged his horse up next to Thor’s. “Leave this to me,” he said, throwing Thor a quick smile and hoping he could delay them long enough for Odin to make it out there.

“Good Heimdall **—** ”

“You’re not dressed warmly enough.”

“I’m sorry?” Heimdall’s deep voice was neutral, giving no hint as to his feelings, but his words revealed that he knew Thor’s destination. Loki could only hope that he would simply refuse them passage.

“You think that you can deceive me.”

Loki forced a small laugh. The longer they stood and talked, the better, but he wished Heimdall would simply tell them to go. “You must be mistaken **—** ”

“Enough!” Loki fell silent, letting Thor move around him, looking properly annoyed and feeling secretly pleased. Thor would demand passage, Heimdall would deny him, and though Thor would rage, they would go back. Safe.

“Heimdall, may we pass?”

“Never has an enemy slipped my watch until this day.” He paused and Loki felt his his stomach drop. “I wish to know how that happened.” No. Loki knew how this had happened, could tell Heimdall _exactly_ how it happened if they only had a moment of privacy.

“Then tell no one where we have gone until we’ve returned. Understand?” And with that, Thor swept by Heimdall into the observatory, the others following in his wake. Loki wanted to rage. The one, level-headed person in this situation who _should know better_ was not only letting Thor march to his death, he was helping him! He simply stood for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts, to begin to plan how to keep them all alive without starting a war.

“What happened? Silver tongue turned to lead?” Volstagg chortled as he passed and Loki repressed the brief desire to shove him off the edge of the Bifrost because he didn’t understand the enormity or the gravity of what they were doing.

Heimdall turned and followed the others into the observatory, and Loki was left with no choice to to follow as well. He hurried back to Thor’s side, hoping that somehow this wasn’t going to end disastrously.

“Be warned. I will honor my sworn oath to protect this realm as its gatekeeper. If your return threatens the safety of Asgard, the Bifrost will remain closed to you, and you’ll be left to die in the cold wastes of Jotunheim.”

“Couldn’t you just leave the bridge open for us?” Volstagg asked, nervousness disguised in a laugh, asif he were just realizing the magnitude of their actions.

“To leave the bridge open would unleash the power of the Bifrost and destroy Jotunheim with you upon it.”

“I have no plans to die today,” Thor laughed, grinning broadly.

“None do.” And with that, he slid his sword completely into the mechanism, and Thor, Loki and the others were pulled into the beam of light that would take them to Jotunheim.

They landed on their feet, ready to go, though the Bifrost was a concussion of sound and air around them. Loki looked around. They appeared to be alone, no other beings visible, and he hoped that Odin would find them before they stumbled across any jotnar. He could see the others doing the same thing, taking stock of their situation.

“We shouldn’t be here,” Hogun said into the silence, and Loki wanted to scream at him for just now figuring that out.

“Let’s move,” Thor said, and headed off toward the heart of the ruined structures that rose before them.

Loki could see the others eyeing him subtly and he wanted to sneer that just because he was on Jotunheim, he wasn’t going to turn blue and go native. He’d long since learned to control the Aesir form he wore, and he had no desire to cast it off. Then he forced back the uncharitable thoughts. It was idle curiosity, nothing more, that likely directed their looks, and this entire situation was already making him feel unsure and off-balance enough without doubting them as well.

The air was still and silent around them, broken only by the occasional fall and crash of ice. It was so quiet that Loki began to hope that they’d come down in an abandoned ruin, a place so desolate and dead that not even the jotnar cared to linger.

“Where are they?” Sif asked, eyes constantly moving, voice quiet so as not to draw unnecessary attention.

“Hiding, as cowards always do,” Thor retorted, walking further into the ruins, the rest of them trailing behind the bright banner his cap made against the snow and ice.

“You’ve come a long way to die, Asgardians.” The voice rumbled out of the darkness, deep, echoing and dangerous.

“I am Thor Odinson,” Thor called back.

“We know who you are.” Their eyes found their way to the figure sitting on a broken pillar, as still as a statue, watching them with eyes that glittered like spilled blood.

There was a long silence as the jotun looked them over, his gaze finally focusing on Loki. “The house of Odin is full of traitors.”

Loki’s blood ran cold. He’d never met him, but he was willing to stake his life that it was Laufey addressing them. Laufey, the man who’d sired him, the man who’d left him to die in the cold. Refusing to flinch, refusing to look away, Loki forced himself to meet the gaze of the jotun king. They both knew how the jotnar had gotten into Asgard; what Loki didn’t know was if Laufey thought his actions were deliberate or just the accident that they were. And he didn’t know if Laufey were going to finger Loki as the one responsible.

“Do not dishonor my father’s name with your lies!” Thor snarled back.

Laufey surged to his feet, snarling right back as he rose to his full height. “Your father is a murderer and a thief! And why have you come here? To bring peace? You long for battle. You crave it. You’re nothing but a boy trying to prove himself a man.” The derision in his tone was clear. Ice and rock ground as other jotnar came forward, slowly ringing the area where they stood. Loki and others watched nervously, and Loki cursed to himself. If Odin did not arrive soon and if he did not manage to head off the violence that seemed all too likely, he did not think they were going to make it back.

“This _boy_ has grown tired of your mockery.”

There was a faint hissing as blades of ice formed around the arms of the jotnar, and Loki could wait no longer. He stepped forward, grabbing Thor’s arm, pitching his voice low so that it did not carry too far. “Thor, stop. And think. Look around you; we’re outnumbered.”

Thor shook him off, still glaring up at Laufey, hand clenching around Mjolnir’s handle. Laufey shook his head, his lip curling. “You know not what your actions will unleash.” He paused, and the only moment of respect Loki had ever had for the jotun was when he said gravely, “I do.” The irony that he of all people in this situation should be the only other one to recognize what was at stake.

“Go now, while I still allow it.”

Thor didn’t immediately reply, his body still leaning forward aggressively. One of the jotnar stalked toward them, and Loki knew that if he didn’t give Thor the push he needed, he wouldn’t leave.

He bent forward slightly, a clear gesture of deference, tugging slightly on Thor’s arm. “We will accept your most gracious offer.”

Thor turned to look at him, his eyes almost hurt, and Loki knew that in the moment he would see it as a slight betrayal. Once cooler heads prevailed and he’d had a chance to truly think about the situation without the haze of anger, he would undoubtedly see the wisdom in Loki’s course of action. Loki stepped back, slowly, taking the risk of turning his back. “Come on, Brother!” he hissed when it didn’t appear Thor would follow, and he held his breath until he heard the sound of Thor’s boots grinding on the ice. A few more minutes and they could ask Heimdall to open the Bifrost and then they could be home, away from this madness.

“Run back home, little princess.” The voice from the jotun who had stepped forward was deep and mocking, and they all froze.

“Damn,” Loki muttered.

The next few moments were a blur. Thor dropped Mjolnir into his hand, spinning and slamming it into the jotnar, sending him flying before he crashed into a wall. “Next?”

The rest of them drew weapons as the frost giants came at them, the sound of battle rising as weapons clashed and voices cried out. The fight was more than a mere scuffle. They _had_ to win or they were never getting off of Jotunheim. Heimdall would not open the Bifrost in the middle of battle. Perhaps if they could flee, get far enough away....

Any further thoughts were lost in the immediate fight to stay alive. Loki used every weapon at his disposal **—** knives and magic, conjuring fire and illusions to combat his opponents as well as aid the others as best he could. But against so many, the outcome of the battle was never in any doubt. Slowly, they began to tire, enough so that their opponents slipped through their guards, inflicting small injuries.

When Fandral cried out, impaled on ice spikes, Loki knew that if there was any hope of getting out, they had to go now. He rushed with the others to free Fandral and then whirled to find his brother, a storm of red cape and lightning as he flung jotnar away from him with Mjolnir. “We must go!” he screamed across the battlefield.

“Then go!” Thor yelled back, mad grin on his face, turning to slam his weapon against another frost giant.

Loki was torn for only a moment. He loved Thor, would do anything to keep him safe, but at this rate they were all going to die. And if he could save the others, he would. “Run!” he shouted to the others and he was relieved to see they didn’t hesitate at all. They raced pell-mell over the ice, heading back to the where the Bifrost had set them down. The thunderous crack of ice and the ground trembling beneath their feet prompted him to look back and his blood ran cold at the sight of the massive beast racing after them.

There was a brief moment of hope when the ground collapsed and took the beast it, but it ended when they reach the edge of a chasm, with nowhere to go and the monster somehow rising before them. Loki tightened his grip on a conjured dagger, but knew any effort they put forward would be futile. The only other option he had was to try ripping open a portal to another world, but without enough time, enough preparation, he couldn’t predict where they would end up, and there was a good chance the frost giants could follow them through. He couldn’t take that risk and as he eyed the massive creature rising in front of them, he could only hope that death would be swift.

The was a faint buzz that grew louder, and then a red blur slammed into the monster, exploding out the other side. In disbelief, the watched at the creature, now very dead, slowly toppled from the edge of the chasm and Thor landed beside them.

But on his heels came the jotnar, and even as they drew themselves up and together once more to face the threat, Loki and Thor shared a bleak look. It was of little comfort to see the stark realization in Thor’s face that he had erred.

“See you in Valhalla, Brother,” he murmured, summoning another dagger to his hand, wondering if he would even go there when this was all done, or if by virtue of their different races he would forever be parted from his brother.

The jotnar had just begun to charge when the brilliant, scintillating light of the Bifrost slammed down around them, followed moments later by the sight of Odin, clad in his armor, Gungnir raised aloft in his hand, astride a rearing Sleipnir who was just as armored. The frost giants faltered and fell back as Odin settled the horse and glared at all of them. Only Laufey came forward, carmine eyes glittering in the Bifrost’s light.

“Allfather, you look weary.”

“Laufey, end this now.”

“Your boy sought this out.”

“Your right. These are the actions of a _boy_ , treat them as such. You and I can end this, here and now, before there’s further bloodshed.”

“We are beyond diplomacy now, Allfather.” Laufey paused. “He’ll get what he came for **—** war. And death.”

“If that’s what you want, so be it. But not here, not today. I am taking them back to Asgard; you’ll have to get your war and death another day.”

Laufey smiled coldly, eyes darting back to their group. He was meeting Loki’s gaze when he asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to leave the little one? It would buy you some time.”

For a long moment, Odin didn’t respond, long enough for Loki’s stomach to knot in fear. “You might be foolish enough to throw away that which is most valuable, but I am not. Touch either of my sons and you won’t have any of your own left.”

And then Bifrost flashed again, and they were pulled up and away.

Heimdall’s observatory was crowded when they made it back, full of armed men **—** a strike force, Loki realized, prepared to take them back by any means necessary. A scant step short of war. Two men rushed forward to take Sleipnir while Odin rounded on them.

“Do you realize what you’ve done?! What you’ve started?!”

“I was protecting my home!” Thor shouted back.

“You cannot even protect your friends; how can you hope to protect the kingdom?!” Heimdall’s sword came free with a steely rasp and he threw it at the gatekeeper. Gesturing at Volstagg and Hogun who were supporting a profusely bleeding Fandral, he snarled, “Get him to a healing room! Now!” They hurried away, Sif rushing after them.

“There won’t be a kingdom to protect if we just allow them to come in here and kill our people! How many more will you allow to be slaughtered before you do something?!”

“We don’t even know what happened yet, but you rush off and risk bringing war to each of the nine realms! How many would be lost then to your foolish pride and vanity?!”

Odin was red-faced and shaking with rage, Thor nearly as worked up. The warriors surrounding them shifted uncomfortably, and Loki remembered how he had always been taught that moments like this should always be hidden from the eyes of the people.

“Thor. Odinson. You have betrayed the express command of your king. Through your arrogance and stupidity, you have opened these peaceful realms and innocent lives to the horror and desolation of war.”

Thor’s eyes flew open wide, betraying his shock. The punishment for such a crime **—** for now Odin had named it so **—** was well known. Thor would be stripped of his powers and banished. Typically, he would be offered the chance to redeem himself after a fashion, but all Loki could think of was Thor, alone and mortal, left wandering some forsaken corner of the nine realms. He was moving before he stopped to think about it.

“Father!” he called, placing himself directly between Odin and Thor. “Wait.”

“Loki, move. This is not your fault.”

“Yes, well, the thing is that’s not exactly true.”

Odin’s eyes widened ever so slightly, enough to reveal to Loki that their father knew something, if not everything.

“The jotnar, they....” He hesitated, because that was the first time he admitted his own culpability out loud. And admitting here, this way.... Loki closed his eyes, dreading what was to come, but he couldn’t allow Thor to bear the brunt of this by himself when ultimately it was his fault. “They broke into Asgard because of me.”

A ripple of shock went through the crowd, followed by a swell of angry muttering that rose until Odin gestured sharply with one hand.

“I have visited the other realms, and I made _one_ journey to Jotunheim. And perhaps I didn’t close the portal the right away, or I left some way to open it from their side. I did not intend for this to happen, and I deeply regret the loss of life that it resulted in, but this is not Thor’s fault alone.”

Odin was silent for a long, long time, his head bowed. Finally he lifted it, turning to address the captain of the guard. “Take my sons into custody and have them confined to their quarters until I decide on their punishment. If they are found outside of their rooms, at any time and for any reason, the punishment will be immediate stripping of their powers and banishment. Get them out of my sight.”

Rough hands grabbed Loki, slightly more gentle ones for Thor, and then were ushered toward the Bifrost.

~*~

Thor had neither seen nor spoken to anyone in three days. His mother did not come to see him, his father did not come to berate him. No servants entered his quarters. Meals were left for him outside of his room and he left the empty trays in the same spot. There weren’t even any guards outside his door, as if Odin were daring him to defy his edict. He spent his time still angry that his father had allowed the murder of their servants and guards to go unpunished, and worried about Loki and what would happen to him.

He was finally summoned in the late afternoon of the fourth day, two guards banging on his door to inform him that he had been summoned by the Allfather. As he approached the throne room, he heard the sound of a crowd, the murmured whisperings, the rustle of clothing and armor, and he swallowed hard. So his punishment was to be public. A hard burden to bear, but he could do it. And it was better than exile.

The guards pushed the doors opened and Thor strode in, determined to put the best face on this he could. He faltered as he approached the throne, for there, at the foot of the dais, was Loki. He was on his knees, each hand bound to a post that had been sunk seamlessly into the shining marble floor, and he’d been stripped to the waist. On the floor behind him, coiled like a venomous snake, lay a dark, heavy whip.

“Pick it up,” Odin commanded coldly. “You will administer one hundred lashes **—** a stroke for each jotun killed in your ill-advised attack on Jotuheim, and additional strokes for Loki’s own foolish part in this debacle.”

His father couldn’t seriously expect him to do this, could he? Thor shook his head. “No,” he said. “I won’t.”

If possible, Odin’s expression hardened further. “You have failed to realize that your actions endangered not just your brother, your friends and yourself, but that if they result in further bloodshed, then it will be on your head. All that I have taught you has failed to get through to you, and so now you will know the consequences of your actions. You will administer a hundred lashes now. If you do not, then Tyr will, and Loki’s punishment will be doubled to two hundred lashes.”

That shocked the crowd, but Thor couldn’t hear it because the blood was pounding too loudly in his ears. Loki might not survive two hundred lashes. Would Odin really risk the death of one of his sons just to teach the other a lesson? Staring into his father’s icy blue eye, Thor realized the answer was yes. Thor’s crime demanded punishment, and Odin would force his hand.

With a trembling hand, Thor reached down for the whip. He saw how Loki’s shoulders tenses, how he hunched in upon himself. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, agonized. “Loki, I’m sorry.”

“Get on with it!” Odin snapped, and Thor nodded weakly, shaking out the whip. As much as he wanted to get this done and over with, he snapped the whip a few times, to test it. He wouldn’t hurt Loki any more than he was being forced to. Satisfied that he could wield it without maiming his brother, he stepped up behind Loki.

“Count them,” Odin said and Thor nodded again, refusing to look up at him.

The first stroke painted a line that quickly turn red across Loki’s shoulder, and Loki jerked against his restraints, but did not cry out. A second stroke had the same effect. Thor got to ten before he started to falter, the lines on Loki’s back beginning to overlap and grow darker. He paused, as much to give Loki a break as himself before starting again.

He was shaking by the thirtieth lash, and with each stroke Loki was straining against his bonds, breath coming fast and harsh from beneath clenched teeth. By fifty he had to step back, blinking back a growing wetness in his eyes.

“Father, please, no more.” Thor looked up, unashamed by the begging he could hear in his voice and knew was in his face. He was more shamed by the sight of his brother, wounds already beginning to weep blood across his back, and the knowledge that he had done that. “Please—”

“Finish it!” Odin roared from his golden throne.

Thor bowed his head and tried to steady himself, tried to find the strength to follow his father’s order. With a shaking hand, he lifted the whip once more.

His voice stuttered and broke as he counted as his father has commanded. Each lash felt like it fell across his soul, each cry from Loki like salt being rubbed into the wounds, each drop of blood more precious than water in a desert. Finally, he reached the end, the last number, and his knees gave way, dropping him to the hard marble floor, the whip falling beside him. Tears wetted his cheeks as he gazed at the bloody ruin he’d made of his brother’s back, and his breath came in harsh, choking sobs. He didn’t care that all of Asgard could see their prince like this; his only thought was that it was his actions that had led to this, his hands that had caused this pain, and he would spend the rest of his life making it up to Loki if he had to.

And it was Odin who descended from the dais to free Loki from his bindings. Odin, who carefully held his younger son and helped him from the throne room through the palace to the healers. Odin, who stepped by his oldest son and heir and refused to look at him, the God of Thunder worth no more of his attention than any other piece of refuse in his path.

The throne room emptied and Thor was left by himself. His mother left just behind Odin and Loki, wringing her hands in distress. Even Thor’s friends filed out silently, unwilling to speak to him. The hall felt dark and cold, echoing with Thor’s grief, guilt and shame.

Finally he stood, picked up the whip and hurled it into a brazier, watching as it burned, inhaling the acrid scent of burning leather. When it was no more than ash, he fetched water and cloths, and cleaned Loki’s blood from the floor himself. No servants even offered to help and Thor wondered if his father ordered them not to, to leave it to remind Thor of the gravity of his actions.

When he was done, Thor made his way slowly to the healing rooms. He knew he had no right to do that, that he should not go anywhere near Loki right now, but he had to know how his brother fared. If he could not, he might go mad with the strain.

None spoke to him as he passed, servants and nobles alike averting their gaze in silence. The healers did not deny him entry, but their looks alone were enough to convince him that he should make no attempt to actually enter the room his brother was in. Instead, he stood outside the door, listening. Within the chamber, he could hear his father speaking. The words were muffled and indistinct, but they were heavy and redolent with weariness and guilt, and Thor knew that the punishment he carried out had not been shared only with his brother.

Loki’s answers, if indeed he did answer when Odin paused, could not be heard. Thor strained to hear something, anything from his brother, but it was in vain.

Eventually, there was movement from within the room and Odin stepped through the doors. He paused briefly as he caught sight of Thor leaning heavily against the wall. A tense, heavy silence hung between them, and Thor couldn’t meet his father’s eye, couldn’t bear to see what he might find within that piercing blue stare.

“You’re not to go near him.” Odin’s words were tired, resigned, and above all, disappointed. “You will not attempt to see or speak to him until he sends for you. Do you understand me?”

Thor finally dragged his gaze up to meet his father’s, and what he found there laid him open. Odin’s eye was red and bloodshot, wetness gathered in the corners to dampen his cheek. There was pain such as Thor has never seen and it was for what he had commanded one son to do to another.

“Do you understand me?”

Thor didn’t not merely nod respectfully and agree. Instead, he dropped to his knees before his father and bowed his head. “Yes, my king,” he said heavily.

Odin didn’t reply, but for just a moment, Thor felt the air above his head shift, as if his father had reached out with his hand. But no touch came, and after a moment, Odin strode away. Thor watched the sweep of his cape across the floor and welcomed the rejection and humiliation. His lesson had finally been well and truly learned.

Never again would Thor take another action without first considering what it would mean to those he loved.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is your very last chance to turn back if you don't want to read incest/pseudo-incest. Because here? Here be porn.

A week passed, and then two. All the while Thor kept to the promise he’d made his father. He didn’t go near Loki’s chambers, avoided meals with his family on the off chance that Loki would be there. His friends came to visit him, but he was in no mood to entertain their company. Visits with his mother were always brief because he was too guilt-stricken and heartsick to entertain her company. And he’d seen neither hide nor hair of his father. If he could take it all back, he would, from the first moment he swore revenge until the moment Loki was helped from the throne room.

To make matters worse, he’d found himself unable to lift Mjolnir from where he’d set it. He could still feel it, the strange connection to the weapon still there, but that was all. Intellectually, Thor knew it was because he felt himself unworthy to wield it, but it felt like another condemnation, one richly deserved. All he could do now was wait, the weeks drawn out, until Loki found cause to forgive him, and perhaps then Thor could forgive himself.

~*~

Loki sat still as his mother smoothed the ointment over his back. By now, he was completely healed, and the scars mostly faded. The unguent the healers had created would remove the last of the scarring over time, and Frigga had fussed over him until he’d allowed her to see to its application.

“He’s quite miserable, you know,” his mother murmured, fingers soft and gentle on his skin.

“Thor? I can imagine.” He knew about Odin’s edict to his brother, and Thor had abided by it. Loki had not caught so much as a glimpse of him since the whipping.

“Can you not forgive him?”

With a soft laugh, Loki shook his head. “That’s not it, not exactly. I’m not...angry, at least not about the punishment. I know he didn’t want to do that.” Loki had known full well that admitting his own fault before others would be met with harsh consequences. He and his father had had long talks about the incident, and the memory of his father pleading forgiveness still made him uncomfortable. And he held no real anger towards Thor. The sight of his brother weeping—and Loki had been coherent enough even at the end of the whipping to remember the sight and sound—had done much to alleviate any remaining ire. “It’s just...his rashness still leaves much to be desired.”

“I think, perhaps, he has learned that as well.” She stepped back, reaching for a cloth to wipe her hands on, but Loki didn’t reach for his shirt. The ointment needed to dry first. Frigga smiled at him fondly as he stood up and rolled his shoulders, and she reached out to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear. “Talk to him, at least? For me?”

Loki smiled. “How can I possibly refuse such a request?” Feeling unusually demonstrative, he reached out and hugged his mother. “I’ll let him sweat it out another week or two, but I will speak to him.”

Frigga laughed gently. “Thank you.”

~*~

The summons from Loki came by way of a note in a page’s hand. It wasn’t much, just a couple of lines on a piece of parchment asking Thor to stop by Loki’s chambers when he had some free time. Thor stared at the scrap of paper, wanting to race there right at that moment, but knowing he needed some time to put together what he wanted to say. Perhaps after dinner. Thor would take one last meal in his room and then seek out his brother in the evening.

The rest of the day passed slowly, Thor glancing out the window every few minutes or so, watching as the sun sank lower and lower. Finally, when he deemed it time, he left his chambers, trying to walk to short distance to his brother’s rooms unhurriedly. He knocked upon the door, and slipped inside when he was bade to enter, closing the door firmly behind him.

His brother was sprawled in a chair, book open on his lap. He gestured for Thor to take a seat, but Thor remained standing. Loki looked fine, hale and healthy, and he quirked one dark brow at Thor as he continued to stand there in silence.

“Are you all right?” Thor blurted out, needing to know that above all else.

Loki inclined his head. “I am fine.”

Thor nodded. Loki said he was fine, and therefore he was so, but it was hard to shake the image of Loki’s ruined back. Until now, that had been the last thing Thor had seen of Loki.

Closing the book, Loki continued to look at him curiously, and then he rose. “Wine?” he asked, going to a cabinet along one wall and pouring a glass. He turned to Thor, holding out the goblet. Thor drifted closer, but made no move to take the proffered drink. “You don’t believe me, do you?” Loki mused after a minute, finally taking a sip himself.

“I need to see,” Thor confessed. “I need to see what I did.”

Loki’s lips pressed together, but he nodded in understanding. He set the wine down, and then, without hesitation, peeled his shirt off, turning so that Thor could see his back. The skin was uninjured and whole, mostly unblemished but for a few silvery marks that yet remained. Thor came forward until he stood just behind Loki, watching Loki’s expression carefully in the mirror that hung on the wall before them. “May I?” Thor asked quietly. Loki nodded again.

The scars were smooth beneath Thor’s fingertips, looking like wounds long healed. If Thor hadn’t inflicted such horrific injuries with his own hands, he would never have known their severity. “Forgive me, Loki,” he said hoarsely.

Loki shrugged. “I already have.”

Thor couldn’t believe that Loki would forgive so easily, not after what he’d done, and his expression must have shown it.

“We both made mistakes,” Loki said, meeting his gaze in the mirror steadily. “And we both paid for them. I won’t linger on what we did wrong, as long as you don’t put either of us in that position again.”

“All right.” Thor nodded, fingers still trailing over the scars. He wouldn’t forgive himself, not truly, until they were completely gone, but he wouldn’t insult Loki by bringing it up. “Still, I would make amends.”

Loki laughed, and the warm sound, coupled with Thor’s proximity to him, causing a familiar tightening in his groin, and Thor silently cursed his reaction. His brother hadn’t turned around, had no idea what was happening behind him, but he soon would, and Thor would have to construct some awkward excuse to escape or lie to cover his embarrassing state.

At least these last weeks he hadn’t had to worry about it. With Loki not around, it had been easier to prevent his thoughts from straying there, to not worry about hiding what he truly felt from prying eyes. And he so was tired of denying it. He almost just wanted Loki to know so that he didn’t have to keep it a complete secret anymore, but he knew the most likely outcome was that Loki would disgusted and order Thor away from him for good.

A terrible thought occurred to Thor. If he told Loki now, and Loki did send him away, at least there was an excuse. People who saw the estrangement would think they knew why, and Thor would no longer carry this terrible burden by himself. It wasn’t fair to Loki, but looking into his brother’s bright, amused eyes, Thor couldn’t deny the truth any longer. He was in love with Loki.

And he would tell him so.

~*~

“Are you going to crawl your way back into my bed again?” Loki asked with a chuckle, remembering the first switching he’d received and Thor’s reaction to it, the way he’d crawled into Loki’s bed and wrapped himself around his younger brother. He meant only to tease, to recall the incident from when they were children to reassure Thor that all would be well, but he was not expecting Thor’s reply.

“If you’ll have me,” Thor said huskily.

The laugh died on Loki’s lips as he fixed his eyes sharply on his brother’s in the mirror. Thor stared back at him, gaze heavy and hot, and Loki wondered if he were going mad. He could not possibly be seeing what he thought he was in his brother’s expression

“Don’t jest,” Loki said lowly, stomach knotting with the fear that Thor knew and that he was mocking him for it. “Not about this.”

Thor’s hands slipped down Loki’s back and slipped around his sides, and then his arms tightened around Loki’s waist as he lowered his head to press a kiss to his shoulder. “I make no jest,” Thor said, moving to Loki’s other shoulder and leaving a trail of kisses behind.

Loki knew he should stop him, should push his brother away before this went any further, but instead he drew a deep breath. “This is rather sudden, Brother, don’t you think?”

Thor sighed, pressing his forehead to the nape of Loki’s neck. “Not for me,” he confessed, voice anguished, the words coming out in a rush against Loki’s skin. “I’ve wanted this for so long, Loki.”

Those words shocked Loki more than anything Thor had ever done. “You never said anything,” he whispered. “I didn’t even know you liked men.”

It was Thor’s turn to chuckle, though the sound was weak and tired. “If only you knew about the long string of slender, dark-haired warriors I’ve left sworn to secrecy in my wake.”

“Why secrecy? Only a fool would have attempted to slander you, and Heimdall would have said nothing, not about you. Why bother?” Loki asked, gasping and throwing his head back as his brother’s lips and tongue traveled the line of a newly acquired scar. It was maddening, the feel of those light, feathery touches on his back and the teasing circles his brother had begun to draw on his abdomen with his fingertips, drawing a definite reaction and pang of arousal. Thor’s answer, however, snapped him out of the reverie he was falling into.

“I was ashamed.”

Loki went rigid at the insult and started to pull away, but Thor held him fast, his arms like bands of iron. “No, listen,” he said quickly. “I wasn’t ashamed of you or of wanting you. I was ashamed of being so unworthy of you, of your affections.”

Loki gaped at his brother in the mirror. “You, the mighty Thor, unworthy?”

“Aye,” Thor murmured, bending his head to the task of caressing Loki’s flesh once more.

“I would have thought it was the other way around, that a jotun was unworthy of an Asgardian prince.”

“Don’t.” Thor’s voice was hoarse. “I’ve never thought of you like that. Never! You’re so much stronger than I, Brother.” Loki let out a bark of disbelieving laughter. “It’s true,” Thor insisted. “What good is my strength if I use it without thought? What does it matter how heavy my hammer is if it’s not aimed at my true foes? You are my better half, Loki, and I am poorer for not having listened to you earlier.”

While he’d been talking, Thor had been working his mouth across Loki’s back, laving attention over the remnants of the injuries he’d inflicted. The scrape of his beard was a rough counterpoint to the soft, wet heat of his lips and tongue.

“I would have your forgiveness, Brother.”

“Would you? And what would you do to earn it?”

“Anything,” Thor whispered fervently. “Everything.”

“Would you beg?” Loki asked, unable to hide the want, the longing in his voice. So many years of craving a thing, of trying to forget it because it was impossible, only to have it fall into his lap as a gift freely given. It was hard to believe this was really happening.

“On my knees,” was the promise that left Thor’s lips.

The sudden image of Thor kneeling before him, blue eyes open, trusting and loving as he looked up at Loki with his brother’s cock in his mouth was too much, and Loki shuddered within the cage of Thor’s arms. He turned around, placed his hands on Thor’s shoulders, and pushed down lightly. “I think I’d like to see that,” he rasped. If Thor was serious, then Loki would test the mettle of his resolve. What his brother proposed was not something to be undertaken lightly, and Loki would have the full measure of his commitment.

With a grace Loki wouldn’t have suspected the bigger man of having, Thor went down to his knees before him. He reached up, lightly grasping Loki’s hips, and for a moment, simply leaned forward to rest his head against Loki’s lower belly, breathing deeply. Then with an impish grin, he looked up, caught one of the laces to Loki’s pants in his teeth, and undid the knot.

Loki went from half hard to fully aroused in the space of two heartbeats as Thor leaned forward again, gently tugging on the laces with his teeth until he could push Loki’s pants down off his hips.

For a moment, Thor just looked at the thick, darkened cock that sprang free of its confines and rose before his face. “Beautiful,” he whispered, his breath ghosting over hot, sensitive flesh, and then leaned forward to lick a single stripe across the head with no hesitation.

Loki groaned, and sunk a hand into Thor’s long, blond locks to clutch at the back of his head. “Save your voice to beg for mercy later,” he gritted out. “I would have you beg with actions now.”

Thor looked up, locked gazes with Loki, and without looking away, took Loki’s cock in his mouth. He swallowed easily, taking Loki’s cock down his throat until his nose brushed the skin of his brother’s groin. Loki bit back a strangled cry. How many? How many men and how many times had Thor done this in order to make it so effortless now?

Jealousy, fury, and possessiveness rose hot within him, making his chest tight. From this moment on, Thor was _his_. It didn’t matter how many had come before because he would be the last.

With a growl, he buried both hands in Thor’s hair and gripped it hard, hard enough that he knew it had to at least sting. Then, holding Thor’s head in place, he withdrew until just the tip of his cock sat within the hot, wet cavern of Thor’s mouth and thrust back in. Loki set a furious pace, hips snapping as he thrust in and out, not allowing his brother to move except to place his hands on his hips to steady himself.

He expected a protest, for Thor to object to such a degrading position, at being little more at the moment than a hole for Loki to fuck. What he didn’t expect was that not only did his brother _not_ protest, but instead he _moaned_ , his hands tightening and fingers digging into the sides of Loki’s ass to encourage him.

It was enough to undo Loki, and he thrust once more, holding the both of them in place as he came. Thor swallowed, the muscles of his throat working, milking the last bits of seed from Loki’s cock. Loki stayed like that for a few moments, the feel of Thor’s tongue fluttering around his cock as it softened almost too much against the sensitive flesh and drawing a whimpering sigh from him.

Reluctantly, he relaxed his grip, freeing Thor to move and grimacing at the blond strands that came free, tangled around his fingers. He glanced down, feeling slightly guilty and ready to apologize, but was arrested by the expression on Thor’s face.

His breath caught in his chest at the sight of his brother looking up at him with undisguised affection and adoration. Thor’s expression was blissful and content, blue eyes almost drowsy with satisfaction, though a glance further down told Loki that his brother hadn’t found completion, his erection straining the front of his pants. Loki brushed gentle fingers across Thor’s cheek.

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Thor murmured, placing his hand over Loki’s and then turning his head to press a kiss to the center of Loki’s palm.

“You’re mine, you know that? From this moment on, Thor, you’re _mine_.”

“Yours,” Thor agreed.

Loki closed his eyes, savoring the rush of pleasure at the words. His brother, Thor, giving himself to him. Never in his wildest fantasies had he thought to be standing here now, hearing those words. He was struck by the power he had over Thor in that moment, by own his desire and want for such power, and surprisingly, an overwhelming surge of love for the big, beautiful man kneeling at his feet, and the knowledge that he would never be able to use that power to hurt Thor.

A little suffering, however….

He pulled Thor up, leaning forward to kiss him, to claim his mouth and taste himself on Thor’s tongue. Thor responded enthusiastically, and they spent the next several minutes simply enjoying each other. Loki was aware of his pants bunched around his knees and of his brother’s erection poking him in his belly, but he dismissed those concerns for the moment.

“Thor,” he said, finally pulling back so they could drag some much needed air into their lungs, “do you want more from me?”

“Yes,” Thor breathed, pulling Loki closer against him.

“And _how_ do you want me?”

Oddly, Thor blushed and looked away. Loki raised an eyebrow. That was interesting. He reached up, caught Thor’s chin in his hand, and forced him to look at him. “Tell me the truth, Brother.” That word would never be the same between them again.

“I….” Thor stopped, licked his lips. “I want you to take me,” he breathed out in a rush, cheeks and neck flaming scarlet at the confession.

“Is that all?” Loki asked, genuinely curious if that was what had Thor so flustered.

Thor shook his head. Eyes squeezed shut tight, he visibly struggled with himself for a moment before continuing. “I want to please you. I want to be yours. Whatever you want, Loki, you shall have it.”

Even after what Thor had just done, the admission rocked Loki. Oh, to have this man under him in his bed, focused solely on pleasuring him. He smiled, letting every ounce of his delight show through, and Thor blushed harder.

“So shy,” he murmured. “I would think after your—what did you call it?—’string of slender, dark-haired warriors’ that you would be used to this by now.”

Thor shook his head and managed to duck it slightly. “…none of them…” Loki heard Thor mumble.

“What was that?”

Thor coughed to clear his throat. “I didn’t, uh, do that with any of them. I mean, I took them, but I didn’t let any of them…return the favor, as it were.”

“And why not?”

Startlingly earnest blue eyes met his own green ones. “Because I wanted my first to be you.”

Really, what could Loki possibly say in reply to that?

He tugged at Thor’s tunic. “Off,” he commanded, and Thor wasted no time in shucking the garment. His hands went to the laces of his pants, but paused as he looked up at Loki.

 _Waiting for permission_ , Loki realized in awe, and nodded, throat too dry to properly form words. Within seconds, Thor was naked—gloriously naked—before him, with no shame as he stood under his brother’s admiring gaze.

Loki gestured to himself. “Now me.” Thor grinned as he stepped closer and bent to slide Loki’s pants the rest of the way down. After taking only a moment to run a hand across Thor’s cheek again, Loki gestured toward his bed.

“Get on the bed.”

Thor nodded, stepped to the bed, and then _crawled_ onto it. And though it was still a little too soon, Loki felt his cock twitch at the sight of all that heavy, corded muscle sliding under smooth, golden skin. He followed his brother, stopping at the foot of the bed, watching as Thor turned and settled himself on his knees, watching Loki in turn and waiting expectantly.

With Thor’s hands resting on the tops of his thighs, Loki’s gaze was drawn quite naturally—and probably quite deliberately—to Thor’s erection. It was rigid, flushed red, straining away slightly from Thor’s body and just begging to be touched. Thor’s cock, like all things about him, was slightly larger than Loki’s, though it was proportional. It was large, but nothing that looked odd or intimidating. Loki had never understood the desire to be massively endowed. After all, harming one’s partner didn’t seem very appealing.

 _Though a little bit of a stretch can be quite nice,_ he thought, eyeing his brother’s cock, wondering what it would feel like inside of him. _Someday,_ he vowed, _but not tonight._ No, tonight he fully intended to see just how compliant Thor was going to be.

He left Thor kneeling on the bed while he retrieved a small jar of slick from a drawer. It was his own compound, something he made himself, thicker than oil—and therefore much less likely to make a mess of his sheets—but just as slick, and with a few extra ingredients to produce a pleasant warmth and tingle. Aware that Thor watched him with keen eyes, he tossed the jar onto the bed, where it rolled to a stop next to Thor’s leg, and stood before his brother once more.

“I think,” he said slowly, “that I want you on your back. I want to see your face as I fuck you, see what you look like as I claim you.”

Thor shifted immediately, sliding back and stretching out flat on his back, even as he flashed Loki a nervous smile. Loki savored it. If his brother was being honest, and fully intended to continue past this night and not claim it as a moment of mad passion, then that endearing shyness would eventually be stripped from him. It would be enjoyable, to debauch Thor this way, but the loss of this innocence would truly be a loss.

Loki returned Thor’s smile with one far more confident, and followed his brother onto the bed. He knelt between Thor’s feet where they lay flat against the mattress, legs bent slightly. He pondered his next move while reaching over to grab his jar of slick, Thor watching him the whole time, propped up on his elbows. Thor was larger than Loki, his frame bigger even without his added bulk. While strength wasn’t an issue, Loki did prefer as much grace and elegance in sex as he could, and manhandling his brother wasn’t very appealing at the moment.

But, oh, yes, that would work nicely….

Running a hand gently up Thor’s left leg from his ankle to his knee, he murmured, “Show yourself to me, Thor. Hold yourself open so that I might better see you.”

The blush, which had receded from Thor’s cheeks, returned, but he didn’t hesitate. Instead, he lay down flat, slid his hands up the backs of the his thighs to cup the undersides of his knees, and _lifted_ , pulling his legs up and back so that his thighs met his chest and the globes of his ass parted to show his Loki _everything_.

After taking a moment to appreciate the sight—the muscles in Thor’s arms and legs tensed as he held the position, the curve of his buttocks defined nicely, the sheer unexpected flexibility the huge warrior had—Loki shuffled closer, still on his knees, until he could feel the warmth of Thor’s body heat radiating against his skin. How much warmer would Thor be when Loki was buried inside of him, sweat-slick skin sliding against sweat-slick skin?

He intended to find out.

Loki ran his nails over the taut skin of Thor’s ass, scraping gently and coming close to—but not quite touching—all of the warrior’s most sensitive areas. He heard Thor suck in a quick breath, and felt him shiver slightly, but Thor held his position, even as his breath grew quicker. Smirking, Loki pried the lid from the jar and swirled one finger through the balm, and then set the jar carefully down next to him. His delightfully worldly brother was a virgin in this role, and Loki intended to make sure he wanted to try it again. He would need much more slick than a single finger’s worth.

Thor gasped at the first touch of Loki’s finger against his entrance, and Loki chuckled because all he’d done was apply a little pressure. “Want to change your mind?” Loki asked as he circled and massaged the puckered muscle.

“No,” Thor breathed, and then shook his head and took a deep breath. “No,” he said more firmly. “But this is all, ah! A-All still a little different with another person.” Thor’s breath shuddered and Loki reveled in the way his brother’s voice broke and head fell back when the muscles of his entrance relaxed enough for Loki to insert a fingertip.

“You’ve done this before? To yourself?” Loki asked, filing that bit of information away as Thor gasped out an affirmative.

“Relax, Brother,” Loki murmured soothingly, slowly sliding his finger deeper until it was seated to the third knuckle. Even more slowly, he withdrew until just the tip was inside and then began again. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Even as Thor spoke, Loki could feel him trying to relax, trying to adjust to the intrusion, slight as it was.

Loki took his time, and when the single finger slid easily in and out of Thor’s body, he withdrew completely, smiling at the slight whimper from the warrior still holding himself open, and retrieved more slick from the jar.

This time, two fingers rubbed for a moment before finally slipping inside. Thor hissed when they entered, involuntarily tightening against them, and Loki paused to give him a moment to adjust. As soon as he felt the first release of tension, he began to work Thor open. In and out, twisting slightly now and beginning to scissor gently, methodical in his desire to make sure that there would be absolutely no pain once he finally took his brother. When his fingers moved easily, he deliberately sought out a spot he’d avoided until now.

When his fingers rubbed against that small lump, that glorious collection of nerves, Thor jerked and cried out suddenly, every muscle tensing and his cock twitching.

“Too much?” Loki asked.

“No.” Thor arched his neck as he threw his head back. “More! Please, Loki, more.”

“Very well.” Loki withdrew his fingers completely and patted his brother’s thigh gently when Thor actually cried out at the loss.

Three fingers, and Thor practically babbled when Loki twisted them. The sight of his brother coming undone forced Loki to admit that he was surprised. Not that his brother should submit to him—Thor had always been willing to do what it took to apologize after whippings—but that he should enjoy sexual submission this much was startling.

Never had Loki seen Thor like _this_. For all his aloofness, Loki was worldly. He’d had his share of women and men, and there had been more than a few occasions when feasts had turned into drunken orgies. In such situations, there had been no avoiding seeing each other naked and in the throes of passion, even occasional brushes of limbs and hands, though nothing overt. But in all of those times, Loki had never seen Thor surrender control, never give himself completely over to another.

He supposed Thor could have been like that in private, but he thought not. Thor was too open, too honest to hide that much of himself that long. Though, given how he was currently splayed on Loki’s bed, he must possess some ability to keep some thoughts secret and private.

Watching Thor writhe, Loki decided that he’d been prepared enough. Thor was relaxed, stretched and practically lost in a haze of lust. With the balm already working inside of him, it was unlikely he’d feel any burn. And if he did, it would likely dissipate quickly.

He withdrew his hand once more, took one last dollop of slick, and smeared it over his own cock. Within seconds, he could feel the low heat it produced, and used a brief wave of magic to set the jar on the floor where it wouldn’t get in the way. Then he moved closer, his thighs brushing Thor’s ass. Loki leaned forward, just close enough that the head of his cock bumped against Thor’s entrance, and it took all of his control not to enter him right then.

“Ready, Brother?”

“ _Yes_!”

Loki wasted no more time. He lined himself up, gripped Thor’s hips and thrust home.

Oh. Oh, that was…wonderful. Tight, gripping heat surrounded him. Thor’s body felt hotter than a forge, and the keening cry he gave as Loki sunk all the way in was the sweetest sound Loki had ever heard. For a moment, Loki had to squeeze his eyes shut tightly and hold onto Thor hard enough that he left marks. It wouldn’t do to lose himself and not enjoy this for every possible second.

When he felt he had control, he opened his eyes and considered the sight before him. Thor’s head turned to the side, eyes shut tight, the muscles of his abdomen rippling as he struggled to hold still, his cock twitching, nearly pulsing with the beat of his heart. Loki reached out with the hand still covered with the balm and stroked his brother’s cock to spread the last traces of slick, Thor groaning and bucking into his hand. Then he leaned forward, setting one hand on Thor’s cheek. “Thor,” he said softly, “look at me.”

Thor turned his head from where he had pressed it into a pillow. His blue eyes were hazy, unfocused, fogged with desire. Loki smiled, leaned forward a bit more, and captured his slack mouth with a sweet kiss. It seemed to focus Thor, who returned the kiss with increasing fervor, his tongue sliding along Loki’s.

Loki released him and used his position to reach up and snag an extra pillow. Carefully, he withdrew from Thor, both men sighing at the loss of contact. “You can let go of your legs for a moment. I need you to lift your hips.”

Thor obeyed, bracing himself and lifting his hips so that Loki could slide the pillow under him. There, that was better, both for the angle he wanted and to keep Thor comfortable. He ran the backs of his fingers along the sensitive skin of his brother’s inner thighs, feeling the quiver of flesh beneath his hands. “Now hold yourself open for me again.”

When Thor once more had his legs pulled back and spread—and looking utterly wanton—Loki thrust into him again, setting his hands back on Thor, one of his hip, the other on his cheek. He wanted this contact, wanted Thor to watch him, to keep him present in the moment so that he would always remember this.

He began to thrust slowly, drawing nearly all the way back out before sliding back in slowly. Thor’s hands, unable to move, tightened on his knees as he worked out a way to match rhythms with Loki. The hand Loki had on his chest drifted, scraping gently with nails one moment, flicking and pinching the hard bead of a nipple the next, and rubbing deep into the muscle in yet other. Loki kept the hand on Thor’s face where it was, forcing his brother looking at him, his thumb just barely brushing over the fullness of Thor’s lower lip.

As he did that, Thor’s tongue flicked out to lick the pad of his thumb and Loki changed his grip slightly. He moved his hand over a bit, and then slid his thumb between Thor’s parted lips. They closed around it, and when Loki pressed down onto the other man’s tongue, Thor began to suck on it, giving it the same attention he had to Loki’s cock earlier.

Now Loki moaned, speeding up the snap of his hips. His mouth otherwise occupied, Thor groaned in response, eyes fluttering shut. In that moment, Thor was so utterly beautiful in his abandonment that Loki couldn’t bring himself to break the spell and force Thor to look at him.

Loki was never going to let him go.

Each thrust caused Thor’s cock to bob, slapping lightly against his belly, and Loki found himself fascinated by the sight. His brother had been hard since this began, and hadn’t yet found a release like Loki had. His cock looked almost unbearably rigid, flushed dark, pre-come leaking from the tip to dot Thor’s stomach.

It was possible to come like this, without being touched, Loki knew. It was a heady rush, to find one’s climax without anyone laying a hand on one’s cock. But he didn’t want that for Thor, not this time.

He tightened the hand on Thor’s face, pressing down with his thumb to force his brother’s jaw open. Thor blinked up at him, confused.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Thor nodded awkwardly. “Do _not_ come,” Loki said sternly. “You will wait until I give you release. Understand?” Thor groaned, an expression akin to misery crossing his face, but he nodded.

“Good.”

It would be cruel of Loki to keep his brother waiting much longer. But he loved his brother, and there was no need to make him suffer excessively. He raised himself back, and grabbing Thor’s thighs for leverage, began thrusting in earnest. Thor met every movement, clenching around Loki every time Loki hit that hidden spot, uttering shameless cries each time.

The pressure built and Loki felt his balls draw up, tightening. He managed to hold off for a few extra thrusts, and then he was gone, tumbling over the edge of ecstasy. He slammed into Thor, as close as he could possibly get, and released his seed into him, filling his brother. Loki’s vision sheeted white for a few moments and his limbs shook with sudden weakness. He lowered himself before he fell, forcing Thor’s legs farther apart as he sprawled out on his chest, panting.

When he regained his senses, it was to the sight of Thor’s face screwed up in concentration, his breath hissing from between clenched teeth. He was holding himself very, very still, and Loki could feel his brother’s erection trapped between them, throbbing. He lifted himself up carefully, noting with pleasure that Thor had neither come nor released his hold.

Thor whimpered when Loki finally wrapped a hand around his cock, and it took no more than two strokes before he was spilling across his belly and chest, come painting the dips and ridges of his muscles.

Loki waited until the heavy body beneath him relaxed, finally sated, and tugged lightly on his brother’s hands so that Thor could lower his legs to the mattress. He moved back, letting Thor stretch out, shifting so that he now straddled thor’s muscular thighs. Thor had performed well, beyond his wildest expectations, and he deserved a reward.

The first touch of Loki’s tongue on his stomach had him levering himself up to watch as Loki methodically licked him clean, occasionally nipping with sharp teeth. He didn’t say a word until Loki finished, exaggeratingly licking his lips.

“Loki,” he breathed, eyes wide, as if he’d never witnessed such a thing before. Then again, he might not have. What one man was willing to do for another was always unknown, but Loki had no reservations. Not with Thor, not now.

“Perfect,” Loki drawled, and when Thor held out a hand, he crawled up to kiss Thor, as thoroughly and completely as he could. Thor wrapped his arms around him, holding him tight, and Loki welcomed it. Now that the moment had passed, he was comfortable giving in to his brother, letting him be the one to wrap them together tightly underneath the blankets.

“Loki,” Thor said again, but softly, on the very edge of sleep.

“Shh, sleep now,” Loki whispered.

“Love you,” Thor mumbled, dropping off as soon as the words left his lips.

It took sleep a while longer to find Loki, who lay in his brother’s embrace, searching that beloved face for some hint of how they should proceed next, for stopping was _not_ an option. Not after Thor had given himself so beautifully.

But Loki was clever. He would find the answer. For now, he had a lover to hold him while he slept.

~*~

Loki awoke alone, and was confused for a moment until the memory of Thor nuzzling him awake to say he would leave before they could be discovered in the morning returned to him. Smiling, he stretched luxuriously in his bed, enjoying the slightly soreness of his muscles and the feeling of being completely satisfied. It was hard to believe that yesterday had actually happened, though the mess on his sheets was proof enough. Though it wasn’t his usual wont, he remained in bed, lazing in contentment the smell of Thor that lingered on his sheets.

How many years of shameful desire had passed between them, only for Loki to find that Thor had wanted the same exact thing all along? He would have to ask Thor when exactly his desires had started. Loki was very curious as to when it had begun, and if there was any definitive reason.

Finally he slid from the bed and slipped on his clothes from yesterday. He needed a bath, but he was ravenous as well. The best plan would be to call for breakfast to be brought to him, enjoy a bath while he waited, and then eat. He padded barefoot out of his bedroom, stretching…and stopped dead at the sight of Odin standing at his desk, looking through a book.

Odin looked up, and as his single blue eye met Loki’s green ones, Loki realized he _knew_. His heart stuttered in his chest and his breath seized in this throat. He hadn’t expected to be discovered, at least not so soon, and his mind churned frantically to find a way out of this mess. How had Odin even discovered this? Loki’s spells were still in place, he could feel the threads of the enchantments pulling at the magic in him.

In the moments of stillness his shock rendered him, Odin spoke first. “I couldn’t sleep last night,” he said slowly, “so I went for a walk. On my way back, I encountered a most curious sight: my oldest son leaving my youngest son’s rooms not an hour before dawn, in an… _unexpected_ state.”

“It’s—” he started, the words “it’s not what it looks like” already forming upon his lips when Odin shook his head.

“I am not a fool. I know what I saw.”

“Father, I can explain!” he almost babbled, desperate to somehow salvage the situation, though he didn’t know how. There was no way out of this, not that he could see. It was ended before it had begun, and Loki would be lucky to escape with permanent exile.

“Don’t lie to me, Loki,” Odin said softly, and Loki closed his mouth with a quiet click of his teeth.

Gently, Odin closed the cover of the book he was reading. “Was it your idea or his?” he asked bluntly.

Loki closed his eyes and drew a deep, shuddering breath, any and all hope of somehow being able to be _with_ Thor vanishing. It had been a foolish dream, a _very_ foolish dream, and he, of all people, should have _known better_. There was only one way this could end, no matter which path it took. This was the only thing he could offer Thor now, to sacrifice himself again for his brother’s sake.

“Mine,” he said firmly, opening his eyes to look at his father. “It was my idea. Thor…I convinced him. He bears no blame in this.”

Odin looked at him for a long moment and shook his head in disappointment, and Loki felt his blood run cold. “I thought I told you not to lie to me,” Odin replied, still using that soft, quiet voice.

Loki’s eyes widened and he blinked, not sure if he’d heard his father correctly.

“The young man I saw this morning,” Odin continued, “looked far too satisfied with himself to have been coerced. The truth, Loki.”

“Maybe I used my magic!” Loki snapped, unsettled and turning to anger as some sort of defense. “It wouldn’t be hard, you know. It’s not like Thor possesses a mind of great depth or complexity.”

“You would have me believe you enchanted him? That you stole his mind and reason? For what purpose? What possible benefit would that gain you?”

“Revenge?” Loki bit out.

“ _Loki_.” Odin finally sounded angry. “Do not take me for a fool. You would not use such a dangerous method to achieve a revenge you do not want.”

“What then?!” Loki cried, flinging his arms out to the side. “What do you want from me?! The truth? Fine! You want to hear what your precious son is truly like? Then shall I tell you how he came to me first, how he went to his knees before me? How he laid himself on my bed so that I could take him?” he sneered, lip curling. “Is that what you want? To hear how willingly and eagerly your heir yearns for this perversion?”

The book was soundlessly set on the desk as Odin turned to face him completely. “I will admit I am not pleased about this development, but I am not angry.” He wiped a tired hand across his face. “I _was_ angry. No father wants to see that. My first instinct was to confront the two of you.” He stopped, falling silent.

“Then why didn’t you?” Loki forced himself to ask.

“What good would it do?” Odin shrugged, almost in defeat. “You are both still my sons, and I love you both, but you are adults, free to make your own choices. If I were to punish either of you publicly, it would only make you hate me, and would turn almost all against _both_ of you.” He took a deep breath. “And it would tear you and Thor apart for good. I spent too many years mourning the hate between you to see a return to it now. As I said, I am not pleased, but better this than a return to that.”

Taking a deep breath, allowing himself to relax just a bit, Loki sank unsteadily into one of his chairs. “And you’re not ashamed of us?” he asked wearily.

Odin shook his head. “There are those who would throw slurs at you, but I’ve lived long enough to know that it doesn’t matter. Your very skill at hiding suggests that there was something to hide, though I didn’t know for sure until now. And I’ve known about Thor for years.”

Loki rubbed at his forehead wearily, feeling as old as the All-Father looked. “Then why....” He trailed off, gathering his thoughts. “Why confront me about it?”

“To make sure that this was of your own free will, for both of you. I take it is was?” Loki nodded shortly. “That’s something, at least,” Odin muttered. “And to warn you. If the two of you intend to embark upon this, then you must be careful. Should you be found out....” He spread his hands. “I cannot approve or sanction this, but I can try to keep both of my sons safe.”

Loki nodded. “Does Mother know?”

“No, and I have no intention of telling her.”

“Good.” He thought for a moment. “Will you confront Thor?”

Odin frowned, looking away. “I think that would be a rather poor idea,” he said gravely.

Loki laughed, the absolute insanity of the situation sinking in. Last night he’d fucked his brother and this morning his father was here, warning him about the danger of fucking his brother. He laughed again.

“Loki?” Odin asked, voice concerned.

“I’m fine.” Loki waved as his father took a step closer. “This just isn’t how I expected the last day to go.”

“That goes for us both.”

“I will speak to Thor,” Loki said after a few minutes. “My magic will keep us hidden, but I will impress upon him the need for secrecy.”

“That would be wise,” Odin agreed neutrally. “I will leave you to your thoughts.”

Loki nodded, unable to form any more words to say. His father paused by the door, turning back. “Do not forget, Loki, that Thor has duties. He will need to see to them, no matter what happens between you.”

Of course. Thor would need to marry and father children to carry on the line. “That day is still far away,” Loki replied evenly.

Odin inclined his head slightly. “As you say.” And with that, he left, closing the door soundlessly behind him. Loki dropped his head in his hands and tried not to sob.

~*~

Thor couldn’t stop grinning when he got back to his chambers. He felt light and giddy and more carefree than he had in more years than he could remember. Never had he honestly expected that outcome, that his brother would share his desires. He reached out to grasp Mjolnir’s handle, and laughed out loud when it moved easily, no longer resisting his grip.

He headed to his bathing chamber, stripping off and leaving his clothes in a trail. He took a moment to look into the large mirror within the room, running his hand over the mostly faded bruise on his hip. It would be gone in a few more hours, and he couldn’t resist pressing his fingers into the marks.  After bathing quickly, he toweled off and threw himself down on his bed, intent on getting a few more hours of sleep.

When he woke, he was surprised to see Loki perched on the edge of the bed. “We need to talk,” his brother said solemnly. “Get dressed. I’ll be in the main room.”

Thor swallowed hard as he watched Loki leave, feeling his stomach sink. What had happened? Things had gone so well, and Loki had seemed perfectly content when Thor had left him this morning. He found clothes and quickly pulled them on, hurrying out to join Loki who stood looking pensively out of a window.

“Father knows,” Loki said without preamble, and Thor felt all his breath leave him in a rush as shame and humiliation and despair overcame him. What had they done? What had he done? He groped for something to support him, hands gripping the back of a chair as it held him up.

“I’ll go,” he said numbly. This was his fault, his responsibility. He wouldn’t let Loki suffer his mistakes again. He would...would give up his claim on the throne, leave Asgard before his disgrace could become publicly known.

“Go?” Loki asked, brow wrinkling in confusion.

“Away.” Thor gestured vaguely to a window. “I’m sorry, Loki. I didn’t...didn’t mean for this to happen. I won’t let it ruin you.”

Surprisingly, Loki laughed quietly, the sound warm and low, and Thor looked at him in confusion. Loki’s lips were pulled up in a fond smile and he shook his head. “No one is being ruined and no one is leaving,” he said firmly.

“But you said Father—”

“I said Father knows.” Loki gave a slight shrug. “He’s not happy, but he’s not willing to lose his children over it. As long as we’re discreet, he will say nothing.”

Thor couldn’t believe that that was all there was to it. Odin had to be horrified by what they had done. Were it anyone else, Thor supposed he would feel the same way, but he couldn’t bring himself to be ashamed of what he felt for Loki, not anymore.

“So what do we do?”

“Whatever we want, I should guess.” Loki shrugged again. “This is rather new to me as well. I suppose we’ll have to see where it takes us.”

Relief loosed Thor’s death grip on the back of the chair, and he stepped hesitantly closer to Loki. “Heimdall...” he began, but Loki waved it away.

“I can keep us hidden. Father only knows because he saw you leaving my room last night and put the pieces together. In the future, I will make sure that does not happen either.”

“Good,” Thor murmured. “I would not give this up.” He closed the last of the distance until he stood next to Loki. “You spoke truly? You wanted this as well?”

“Do you doubt me?” A dark brow lifted in amusement. “You could not force me, Thor. Not unless you truly meant to hurt me and I know you wouldn’t do that. Yes, I want this, and you. Don’t worry about that.”

“All right.” For a long moment, Thor just looked at his brother, remembering what they did last night and how much he wanted to do it again, and more. He lifted a hand slowly and brought it to Loki’s face, cupping Loki’s cheek almost reverently. Then he bent down and brushed a soft kiss across those thin lips.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Allow me to apologize for the absurdly long time between updates. I never intended for it to take this long, and I don't intend to take this long again in the future.

It took some time, but eventually Thor relaxed and settled into the new aspect of his relationship with Loki, who was far more sanguine about the whole thing. And though Odin never said anything, it took a long time until Thor could meet his father’s gaze without shame.

Now that he and Loki were lovers, Thor had an entirely new fear. It was no longer just about hiding how he felt about Loki, it was about hiding what they were to each other from everyone. Completely suppressing what he felt had been easier than constantly watching to make sure he didn’t slip up.

Some of what he felt he could hide beneath his own natural demonstrativeness and proclivity for friendly touches, disguising the ones with deeper meaning. No one thought anything of him slinging an arm over Loki’s shoulders because he did it so often. But more than once he’d gone to pull Loki close, or been halfway through an embrace when they were suddenly interrupted. Each time they managed to come up with an explanation, but Thor knew that their luck would not always hold. Being alone with Loki when they were not privately sequestered was always fraught with a subtle tension because of it. At least at night, or during stolen moments when they could be sure they were alone, Loki’s magic kept them hidden.

Despite that, he couldn’t recall ever being happier. And as time and their relationship progressed, Thor marveled at how right it felt to submit to Loki, how pleasing and fulfilling it was. It wasn’t that Thor simply let Loki take him; Loki proved, time and again, that he was a generous lover, that he would gladly offer Thor the use of his hand, mouth and body. But while the thought of giving himself over to anyone else made Thor’s stomach churn, there was an unexpected joy in doing it for Loki that kept Thor coming back for more. He and Loki explored each other and that aspect in many places, including some altogether [inappropriate ones](http://archiveofourown.org/works/282896).

After all the shame and fear, it was shocking to realize how safe and comforted he felt when he placed himself and his control in Loki’s hands. It was, he eventually realized, because he trusted Loki above all others. Even after everything Thor had put him through, all the grief and pain suffered on his behalf, Loki still looked out for him, still protected him. Laying in Loki’s bed one night, well-sated and drowsy, an arm and leg thrown possessively over Loki while he rested his head on his brother’s shoulder, Loki working snarls from his hair with his fingers, Thos told him so. His words were met with a soft huff of laughter. “Many would say you are a fool to trust me so,” he said in amusement.

“They do not know you as I do, and nothing they could say would ever convince me otherwise.”

“You may be a fool,” Loki said fondly, resting his hand on the back of Thor’s head, “but you are _my_ fool.”

~*~

The door to Loki’s chambers swung open easily under Thor’s touch. The spell that held them fast against unwanted guests had long been altered to allow Thor entrance. In all the time he had arrived unannounced, he had caught Loki in the midst of any number of unusual circumstances. But when he entered today, he was brought up short, halting in shock. Loki stood before a tall mirror, clad in just a simple pair of leather pants, which was not the oddity—that was the fact that he was _blue_.

Thor had never seen Loki in his jotun form—his true form, he reminded himself—and it was a sight he was not prepared for. On Jotunheim, flat and cold and gray, the frost giants had seemed dark and foreboding. But here, in the bright light of Loki’s rooms, the blue of his brother’s skin seemed richer, warmed, more alive than the jotnar of Jotunheim ever had. His eyes were drawn to Loki’s markings, the raised lines that flowed over his skin, across his back and arms before disappearing down past his waistband and up into his hairline. He glanced into the mirror to see if the markings were present on Loki’s chest and face—they were—only to find that his brother was watching him, a flat, dispassionate look in his now garnet-colored eyes. Embarrassment flooded Thor at being caught gawking so openly and he looked away.

“Do I repulse you?” Loki asked, voice dark and low.

“What?” Thor looked back over, startled. “No! Of course not! I was just caught off guard.”

Loki’s lips twisted. “Of course,” he muttered, clearly disbelieving of Thor’s words.

Thor stepped forward, knowing he had erred. He stopped just behind Loki, hand outstretched, fingertips hovering just over the deep blue of Loki’s skin. Memories of a frost giant’s touch on bare Aesir skin kept him from closing the short distance. “Can I touch you?” he asked.

“You’ve never bothered to ask before.”

“You know what I mean.”

For a long minute, Loki continued to appraise him coolly before he finally inclined his head. “The intense cold is a response I can control. Do not fear; I won’t use it on you.”

Thor closed his hand on Loki’s shoulder. His brother felt perhaps a touch cooler, but no more so than anyone would be after standing around bare chested. His skin, though, felt different. Not rougher, exactly, but thicker, more durable, which made sense. He traced one finger along a marking, exploring the firmer texture, then glanced up at Loki. “Do they feel different?”

“No, not unless you count that they’re less sensitive. So if you had any erotic plans for them, best abandon the idea now.” Thor made a face that Loki could read him so easily, but lowered his mouth anyway to drag his tongue along the line that followed the crest of Loki’s shoulder, and if the shiver that ran through his brother was a result of sight and not sensation, then that was fine with Thor.

Loki kept watching him, even as he obligingly tipped his head to the side to allow Thor access to his neck. “Is this a jest?” he asked, his eyes falling halfway shut when Thor sucked an open-mouthed kiss to his skin. “Or an attempt to prove you do not fear my appearance?”

Sighing, Thor turned his brother around, held him by both shoulders, and shook him very gently. “Whatever you look like, be you white, blue, or black, tall or short, you are still Loki and I still desire you.”

“Careful, Brother,” Loki breathed, suddenly in good humor again, “you would not want me to test that conviction. I doubt you would wish a draugr in your bed.”

Thor made another face. “You may have a point. Nevertheless, I find no fault with _this_ form.”

Loki hummed, head tilted thoughtfully. “I may have lied when I said I would not use the weapon on you.” He brought his hands up, resting them high on the sides of Thor’s ribs, his thumbs pressing gently on Thor’s nipples. Thor waited, watching, and after a few moments he felt Loki’s thumbs grow cool, then cold. Loki moved his thumbs in slow circles and Thor gasped as his flesh pebbled and peaked beneath them. His brother kept at it until the biting cold pushed well past comfort into pain, until Thor’s nipples were so hard and tight that they _hurt_. And then Loki rolled the hardened nubs between his fingers and Thor couldn’t hold back his ragged cry.

Loki’s red eyes gleamed and he wasted little time pushing Thor back toward and onto the bed, stripping both of them as they went. By the time Thor was on his back, he was more than half hard, squirming as Loki’s icy fingertips danced across his skin. With a grin that was just shy of vicious, Loki took him apart with that chilled touch.

Conjuring sharp icicles on the tips of his fingers, Loki dragged them over Thor’s flesh. The cold wasn’t completely unpleasant, but it was different, and Loki plied it against every sensitive area he could find, making Thor shiver with each touch, though he was careful to avoid Thor’s cock and balls. And when his brother buried two ice cold fingers inside him, slick as they were from the vial of oil he’d summoned, Thor whined, bucking away from the contact. His body wasn’t sure what to do. Loki’s fingers rubbing and stretching felt good, but the cold did not, not in that intimate a place, and his arousal kept flagging and returning as Loki worked. Thor twisted away from his brother’s touches and then back into them in turns.

“Loki,” he whined, “stop. I can’t....”

Loki tutted, but allowed the ice to disappear and skin to warm slightly so that it wasn’t ice cold. Sighing, Thor stopped fidgeting so much. “Better?” Loki asked, arching a brow.

“Much,” Thor agreed, and pushed back into Loki’s hand. “Enough, teasing. I want more than your fingers.”

Chuckling lowly, Loki murmured, “You say that now,” but slipped his fingers free. He pushed Thor’s legs back toward his chest and shuffled forward on his knees. For a moment, Thor could see the brief motions as Loki coated his cock in oil, and then he wasted no more time before thrusting into Thor.

If Thor had thought Loki’s fingers were cold, it was nothing compared to his cock, which reached far deeper and wider than his fingers had. Thor bit back a gasp and squirmed until Loki clamped his hands on his hips to keep him in place. He fucked Thor seemingly without care, angling his cock just the right way to finally pull an almost unwilling orgasm out of Thor. Thor came, shivering and sweating and throwing his head back, eyes squeezed shut as his body struggled to settle on one feeling. He almost didn’t feel it when Loki came, save for the quick, sharp thrusts and the sudden tenseness of Loki’s body. With a groan, Loki settled himself on top of Thor when he was done. Thor managed to wrap his arms around him and pull him closer, though he wasn’t nearly as pleasant to hold as he normally was.

After a minute, Loki shifted slightly, and the coolness of his skin began to warm, the raised lines on his flesh smoothing out. Thor opened his eyes to see the blue fade from his skin, the bright red from his eyes, leaving the normal paleness and bright green that he greatly preferred.

“Better?” Loki asked, one corner of his mouth pulled up in a wry grin.

“Much,” Thor murmured, and then rolled, trapping Loki beneath him, his brother uttered an undignified squawk at the sudden movement.

“Get off me, you oaf,” he said, pushing at Thor’s shoulder.

“No.” Thor let his weight settle more firmly on Loki, and buried his face against the now warm skin of his neck, stealing Loki’s body heat to warm himself. Reaching one hand over, he fumbled for the blanket that had been pushed to the side and dragged it over them.

Loki chuckled softly and squirmed. “At least let me breathe.” Thor reluctantly slid over a little bit, letting Loki find a more comfortable position, and smiled against his brother’s skin when Loki slid a hand into his hair. Thor sighed happily and let his eyes fall shut to nap. Loki wouldn’t be content to spend too long in bed, and would wake him when he rose.

Loki’s fingers rubbed circles into his scalp, the gesture helping Thor to drift off. He didn’t say anything, but Thor knew his brother well enough to know that Loki had been pleased with his reaction, that Thor hadn’t been disgusted by his jotun form and hadn’t shied away from his touch, though it wasn’t as enjoyable. He smiled again, pulled Loki a bit tighter, and fell asleep.

~*~

Loki’s interest in changing into and maintaining non-animal forms was hardly academic. Although Thor paid little attention to the idle gossip of the court, Loki, who watched from the shadows, couldn’t help but focus his interest on the chatter that occupied the lords and ladies. And the fact that it had been a long time since Thor had taken anyone to his bed—that they knew of—had not gone unnoticed. Loki _could_ have convinced Thor to take a woman here or there to his bed, but the thought sat ill with him. Yet a solution had to be found. So instead, he stood in front of his mirror, gazing critically at the woman staring back at him.

He made, he had to admit, a fairly attractive woman. He’d left his coloring in place—pale skin, dark hair, green eyes—but softened his features, giving himself curves and gently rounding the angles of his face. He made sure to alter enough features so that he wasn’t recognizable, but not so different that he was startled by his own reflection.

The transformation had not been difficult, but it was decidedly disconcerting. When changing to an animal form, there was a certain alteration to the mind that enabled a seamless transition. His mind did not become that of an animal, but it took on enough traits that the new form felt natural. With another humanoid form, his mind remained exactly the same, so he was acutely aware of all the differences.

His slightly shortened height made no real difference, nor did the subtlety different shape to his limbs. Having rounded hips was distracting, though not nearly so much as the breasts he now had, or the absent weight of his cock and balls between his legs. Loki avoided focusing on that area for now, and instead concentrated on his breasts.

They were a respectable size. Not overly large, but a generous handful for his now smaller hands. He hefted them experimentally, manipulating them and squeezing them the way he’d done to his previous lovers, and unexpectedly gasped quietly when his fingers brushed over his nipples. Previously, having them played with had been pleasant, but now everything felt magnified, much more pleasurable than before. He began to grin in sudden delight. This might be far more enjoyable than he’d originally thought.

He next turned his attention to his groin. His female body was perfectly formed, but it was more than a little disturbing to not have male genitals. It felt like he was missing something, no matter how complete this form was, and he couldn’t shake the sensation. Cautiously, he reached down, touching himself with careful fingers, exploring his new anatomy. He gasped again. His new flesh was just as sensitive as his old, if bundled in a smaller package. Stopping before he’d teased himself too much, he marveled at the odd ache within him, the desire to be filled. Loki wondered if it was similar to how Thor felt when he craved Loki in him. It was likely a bit different, given the parts involved, but if it was close, it explained a great deal.

Wiping his hands off, Loki reached for the gown he’d created earlier. Despite having taken a great many gowns _off_ , after struggling into the dress, he was grateful he’d kept it fairly simple. Once he was dressed, he eyed himself critically in the mirror. Deciding against any further embellishments—he didn’t want to attract too much attention—he swept his longer hair back over his shoulders, gathered his magic around him, and departed from his rooms.

Unseen, he walked to the large feasting hall, slipping in and finding a darker corner so he could drop his invisibility. He stayed where he was until he’d located his family and friends, making a note to avoid them if at all possible. Loki waited until Thor was alone, having politely fending off overtures from more than a few men, before he slipped through the crowd to Thor’s side. “Good evening, Your Highness.”

Thor looked down and smiled genially at him. There was no hint of recognition in his face. “Good evening,” he replied.

“Are you alone tonight?” Loki asked, doing his best to look coy and inviting.

Thor looked out over the crowd, eyes darting back and forth as he searched, frowning a bit when he didn’t find who he was looking for. “It appears so.”

Loki wound his arm through Thor’s and pressed close to his side, pushing his breasts against Thor’s arm. He smiled what he hoped was a seductive smile and said throatily, “Then allow me to keep you company.”

Smiling down at him kindly, Thor started to remove his arm. “I’m sorry, but—”

Immediately, Loki dug his fingers in Thor’s muscled flesh, and then let them grow ice cold. Answering smile firmly in place, he hissed through his teeth, “So help me, if you ruin this, I will _flay_ you.”

“ _Loki_?” Thor gaped at him, and Loki sighed.

“Say it a little louder, perhaps. I don’t think everyone heard you. And close your mouth, or at least take a drink. You look like a village idiot.”

Thankfully, Thor did the latter, taking several swallows from the skein of mead in his hand. Then he looked Loki over again, curiosity replacing confusion on his face. “Not that I find this form displeasing—indeed, quite the opposite,” and there he leered like a lecher for a moment, “but I don’t understand why.”

“Because you are a noble idiot,” Loki muttered. Then he tugged on Thor’s arm. “Come, we’re drawing more attention than I want right now. Let us mingle a while before I explain.” They drifted about the hall, sampling the platters of food set out ahead of the feast, and exchanging small talk with others. It was amusing to watch people try and place him, Loki thought, or mindlessly agree with the lies and stories he spun. None of them had the slightest clue who he was, yet they were so desperate for position that they didn’t dare risk losing face by questioning what he said. Cattle, all of them.

“Mind explaining now?” Thor murmured as they finally drew off to the side again.

“Fine.” Loki wet his lips with a sip of wine from his goblet, and then leaned close to Thor, reinforcing the image that they were discussing something private and not to be disturbed. “You are faithful to me.”

Thor blinked. “Of course!” he said. “Why would I not be? And why is that a problem?”

“The _problem_ ,” Loki stressed, “is that your spurning of multiple bedmates has not gone unnoticed. The court has noted your lack of liaisons, and now they gossip and scheme to find out the reason why.” He took another sip of wine, savoring the taste for a moment before continuing. “They are in no danger of discovering the truth, obviously, but we should discourage any attempts to pry.”

Nodding, Thor looked him over. “And that is your purpose tonight?”

“Yes. I thought that donning different guises, perhaps once a week or so, would be sufficient to quell the bulk of the talk.”

Again, Thor nodded, his gaze now more speculative. “And is this form just a glamour? Or does it run deeper?” His hand crept toward Loki’s chest and Loki impatiently swatted it away.

“I changed my form,” he muttered, nearly under his breath. “I did not want to risk a glamour that could be accidentally disspelled.”

“And did you intend to keep it once we left?” The gleam in Thor’s eyes was very bright now.

“I had not yet decided,” he said, and then narrowed his eyes at Thor. “Would you enjoy it if I did?”

“Very much so.”

The answer rankled Loki, coming too quickly and with too much eagerness, and caused a flash of irritation, and he pulled away. “Do I no longer satisfy you? Would you rather take one of these empty-headed wenches to your bed instead?”

Thor sighed, the sound both exasperated and fond all at once. He shifted, turning and crowding Loki against the wall, using their disparate sizes to trap Loki in place. “So quick to take offense,” he murmured, bending his head to brush his lips across Loki’s cheek, and Loki froze at the blatant gesture, in full view of everyone, before remembering he was still disguised. “Saying I like venison does not mean I no longer like beef.”

“You did not just compare me to _food_ —”

“My point,” Thor overrode him, “is that variety is nice, but if the choice matters, I will always choose what I love best.” He raised his hand and ran the back of his fingers down Loki’s cheek, and Loki leaned into the touch, just a bit, realizing that his plan now afforded him a benefit he hadn’t thought about. “I like women, yes. Their bodies offer different pleasures and delights—which I would love to show you—but they are not worth losing you over. We could have a great deal of fun if you keep their form, but not if you don’t want to.”

Loki eyed his brother, considering the situation. Neither of them were strangers to sex with women, but Loki had never been on the other side, and they had never enjoyed each other like that. It was, he could admit, a tempting thought. He wondered if Thor would be different; his demeanor so far seemed to indicate he would be. And it wasn’t as if Loki _had_ to continue to do it. He could indulge his curiosity this once, and then see if the encounter was worth repeating.

He nodded shortly, and ignored the small flutter in his stomach at Thor’s broad, pleased grin. After that, it was hard to concentrate, but he forced himself to. The feast seemed frustratingly long, but he knew that to not spend a certain amount of time would only invite further speculation.

Finally, when he could not contain his impatience any longer, he placed a hand on Thor’s arm and subtly nodded toward the door. Thor took his meaning at once, and immediately bid a good night to those he had been talking with. There were few teasing calls as he left, but Loki behaved like the lady he was pretending to be, and didn’t break decorum until they were safely behind the locked doors of Thor’s room.

Then Thor proceeded to show him how very skilled he was at _this_ kind of lovemaking. It was odd, and for a while, Loki was unsure if he liked it. It wasn’t that it wasn’t pleasurable—it was, very much so—but it was so different from what he was used to, the sensations new and strange. Thor, though, seemed bent on making him enjoy himself, applying every skill and trick he’d learned. And when he finally slid into Loki, it was so much better than he was used to.

After, with Thor lying half on top of him, heavy and warm, Loki decided that Thor was indeed more dominating and assertive, but that he didn’t mind it very much at all.

~*~

Over the following weeks, Thor began to look forward to the nights when Loki would alter his form. It wasn’t just the womanly shapes he adopted—though Thor did enjoy the chance to explore those delights once more—it was that he could shower Loki with affection, flirt and tease outrageously, with no one being the wiser. It was even worth the small games Loki would play, letting Thor try and guess what he looked like each time, and then “punishing” him later if he guessed incorrectly.

He’d thought that Loki enjoyed it, too, until Loki batted his hands away impatiently one night when they’d entered Thor’s room, rounding on him angrily. He nearly tore the dress off his body in his haste to be rid of it, and as soon as it was off, he reverted back to his normal shape. Then he stalked across Thor’s chamber, jerking open a drawer, removing a set of spare clothes, and yanking them on angrily.

“What’s wrong?” Thor asked carefully, uncertain what was bothering Loki, or where this sudden ire had come from.

“What wrong?!” Loki spat at him derisively. “You’re always in such a hurry to get me back here and fuck me!”

Thor blinked. “I thought you enjoyed it?” he said uncertainly. “We don’t have to, but I thought that was what you wanted.”

“What I want is for you to show that you love me without having to pretend I’m someone I’m not!”

Thor’s heart clenched inside his chest. No wonder Loki was so irate; he had every reason to be. For weeks now Thor had been lavishing attention on him, but in the eyes of everyone else, it was always some stranger, some throwaway fling. The only time Thor showed the real Loki the same affection was in private, where no one else could ever see it. If he could, he would show everyone how he felt, but such was an impossible dream.

“Loki, please.” He pitched his voice low, letting his sorrow and regret bleed through. Thor stepped closer, moving slowly and carefully, aware from his brother’s stance just how tense he was. “I _can’t_. If I could, I would declare how I feel in front of everyone, but I _can’t_. Do you think I want it to be like this?” He was close enough to lightly grasp Loki’s shoulder, and while he could feel how stiff Loki was, his brother made no move to shrug his hand off. “If it were possible, I would have us do this where everyone could see who you are. But as much as I might wish for that, Loki, we can’t have it. If playing this charade upsets you this much, then we should stop.”

“And have all my hard work be for naught?” Loki glared at him. “That’s what you want?”

“I want you to be happy!” Thor cried. “I will not deny that I enjoy myself, but I don’t want it to come at your expense!”

Loki closed his eyes, rubbing at them with one hand. “I know,” he muttered. Then he sighed, a long shuddering breath as his shoulders sagged. “I know,” he said wearily.

He looked so defeated, so dejected that Thor’s first impulse was to pull him into an embrace. Loki allowed it, but didn’t return it, and after a few minutes he shrugged his way out of Thor’s arms.

“Forgive me, Thor,” he murmured. “I am out of sorts. I think for tonight it would be best if I returned to my own rooms.”

“We don’t have to do anything. We could just lie next to one another.”

Loki shook his head faintly. “Not tonight. I am angry, and I don’t wish to take it out on you.”

“I can take it,” Thor teased.

That managed to summon a small smile to Loki’s face, but he just shook his head again. “I know you can, but I don’t _want_ to take it out on you.”

“All right.” Thor couldn’t force Loki and he didn’t want to. However, he did lean forward and brush a swift kiss across Loki’s cheek. “Sleep well.”

With a nod and a quiet, “You as well,” Loki stepped around Thor, letting himself out of Thor’s room and silently shutting the door behind him. Alone, Thor sighed and raked a hand through his hair in frustration. As much as wanted there to be, there was no solution to their problem. They were stuck like this.

With another sigh, he picked up Loki’s dress off of the floor, folding it carefully and tucking it inside a drawer. Loki would likely want it back later, and Thor would keep it until then.

~*~

Eventually, the court began to take notice of the change in Thor’s behavior. They watched with a careful eye, and as Thor continued to show signs of returning to his old self. People relaxed, and took comfort in the apparent return to normalcy. The reaction irritated Loki, far more than he had anticipated. It did not matter to these people that the “women” they saw Thor take to bed meant nothing to him, that they were just casual bits of pleasure to be used and then put aside. What mattered was that he was finally acting like Thor again, was once more behaving as they believed their prince ought to.

It angered him, something that had been building since they’d started and continued even after he snapped at Thor. He’d apologized for that a few days after the incident. It was hardly Thor’s fault; after all, had their positions been reversed he would have reacted the same way. He resented how free he and Thor could be with their affections when he wore a face and form not his own, and that those same demonstrations were denied to them when he looked like himself. They both understood why, knew the necessity of it, but it did not make accepting it any easier, especially for Loki, as the one forced to hide. If anything, the burden had been easier to bear when they hadn’t known how it could be otherwise.

Loki’s plan also served as a stark reminder that his time with Thor was limited. Someday, Thor would have to take up the crown and marry and father children. Loki didn’t imagine that he would lose his brother completely, but Thor would never again be solely Loki’s. And here they were, wasting their precious time keeping up appearances for vapid, narrow-minded, and short-sighted fools. It was appalling.

There was no solution to be found, not on Asgard. As Thor had so succinctly said, they couldn’t, not without a backlash that Loki was unwilling to put either of them through. The answer to their problem, Loki realized one day, was startlingly simple. The reason that Thor and Loki could not be public with their affections was that everyone knew them, and would consider their relationship taboo, if not an abomination. The solution, therefore, was to go somewhere where no one knew who they were, where they would not be looked upon as brothers first, lovers second.

There were two potential stumbling stones in his way, and the first and most important was getting Odin’s approval. They didn’t need his permission for short jaunts and sojourns, but for the length of time Loki wanted, he had to get Odin’s blessing if they wanted to remain undisturbed. Catching his father alone wasn’t a challenge, and Loki waited for a day when Odin was in particular good humor, slipping into his father’s study one evening.

“Loki,” Odin greeted him with a smile, looking up from a heavy tome.

“Father,” Loki replied, inclining his head. The formalness of his tone and gesture caught Odin’s attention, and he looked up from the thick book to give Loki his complete attention.

“Do you need something?”

“Yes.” Loki  crossed to one of the chair’s set before his father’s desk and sat. “I wished to ask permission for Thor and I to take an extended leave from Asgard.”

Odin’s lips thinned slightly, the way they always did when conversation touched even minutely upon Loki and Thor’s relationship. By unspoken agreement, they both refrained from mentioning it unless it was absolutely necessary; Odin because he did not approve and never would, and Loki because he did not enjoy seeing his father’s visible displeasure at what he and Thor had chosen to do. He knew very well why his father felt the way he did, but he refused to be made to feel ashamed of it to the point where he would deny it existed.

“What are you asking for, Loki?” Odin asked, cutting right to the point.

“I want to leave with Thor, go somewhere away from Asgard, to live as we’re not allowed to here.”

Odin frowned, deep creases appearing on his brow and around his mouth. He pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “I want to say no,” he said quietly, holding up a hand before Loki could interrupt. “I want to say no because if you are discovered, I cannot protect you. I _know_ you will be careful. I _know_ that with your vigilance it is unlikely you will be caught. But it still worries me.”

“I won’t allow Thor to suffer for it,” Loki said lowly.

Odin made a frustrated sound low in his throat. “And that is the other reason. You are too willing to sacrifice yourself for him.” Loki arched a single brow at his father, and Odin waved his hand to dismiss the gesture. “I know, I know. But one of you is not worth more than the other. It worries me that you would give up so much when he would not.”

It was Loki’s turn to frown. “It’s not that Thor wouldn’t, it’s that no one would believe him.”

With another sigh, Odin nodded. “I see your point. Still....”

“As you said, you know we will be careful. And there is nothing that holds us here right now. Should you have need of us, returning home is the work of moments. Our time to do this is limited, and if you say no, I will only ask again in the future. I’m not asking for you approval, I’m only asking you to allow us to go.”

For a long time, Odin sat silently, looking at the wall. Eventually, he sighed heavily and nodded. “You may take what you need.”

Loki rose to his feet, bowing at the waist. “Thank you,” he said, meaning it more deeply than he could convey. “I will let you know where we are going when we’ve decided.”

Odin nodded again, and watched as he made his way to the door. “Loki?” his father called, just as he’d placed his hand on the handle. He looked back over his shoulder. “Be safe. I do not want to lose you— _either_ of you. Come home when you are ready, but more importantly, come home _safe_.”

“We will,” Loki promised. “And know that I will not put fun and pleasure over our well-being. If it is the difference between a moment of sport and our safety, I know what to safeguard.”

His father inclined his head and Loki slipped back out of the study without another word, his mind already moving onto the next task. With Odin’s permission secured, the biggest impediment to Loki’s plan to get them away so they could live other lives for a while was that there were very few places they could actually go. Oh, they could go to any of the friendly realms if they intended nothing more than to travel as brothers and friends, but that’s not what he had planned. Loki wanted to go someplace where they wouldn’t have to worry about hiding, and once he ruled out all the realms that knew them, as well as the ones that were simply inhospitable, it left only Midgard.

Loki frowned. It had been a long time since he had ventured to Midgard, and while he supposed their society must have advanced at least a little since he’d last been there, he wasn’t filled with confidence. He had no intention of living a crude and humble life with there, and that meant they would surely have to insinuate themselves in the upper levels of society, which inevitably meant dealing with courts and their petty squabbling. He sighed. Best go and investigate first. Midgard was large, and its populations quite diverse. Surely there must be something he could work with.

Drawing his magic around him to shield him from view, he felt out the hidden pathways he used, opened on, and stepped through to Midgard to explore.

~*~

Midgard had...changed. Oh, some poor, benighted parts of the realm still lived in complete barbarism, but humanity had come far in the several hundred years since Loki had last been there. He was, he reluctantly admitted to himself, somewhat impressed by what they had accomplished. Those who used magic, like himself, could accomplish any manner of great wonders, but that power was held by a very small few when spread out across the realms. Humanity had managed to harness their science to create wonders both great and small, and then distribute it to the masses. Granted, their accomplishments had come at a price—a fair portion of their realm was, in short, disgusting—but the rest....

He explored all of their great cities, continuing to keep himself hidden as he investigated. The most populous locales would be easier for him and Thor to disguise themselves in, the sheer press of numbers effectively camouflaging them as long as they fit in. A great number of cities he discarded out of hand, simply because, aesthetically, he and Thor would not blend in at all. Their height, and Thor’s size especially, would set them apart, but it would be minimized if they at least _looked_ like they belonged. He narrowed his choices down to a handful, and then set to learning about modern human society.

Still hidden, he shadowed the mortals, going from one to another, watching as they went to jobs, bartered for goods, and entertained themselves. The biggest obstacle that Loki could see was that their technology had advanced to point where they could not simply slot their way into society, as they had done previously. Apparently, there were bits of paper and some strange substance he later learned was called plastic required to prove one’s identity, and money and wealth weren’t necessarily tangible, represented by intangible digits instead of piles of gold and jewels. An annoying hindrance, but after several days of more intensive research, he was confident he could use his magic to fabricate the necessary documents, as well as the necessary funds.

All that was left was to convince Thor.

~*~

“You want to leave Asgard? Our home?” Thor looked up at Loki, surprised that his brother would suggest such a thing.

“Not permanently, no,” Loki said. “But for a time, yes.” He looked away for a long moment. “I hate this, always having to watch ourselves, having to hide what we are every moment of every day.”

“You are not the only one,” Thor replied, somewhat subdued. It was a discussion they’d had before, a reality they’d confronted more than once. It wasn’t hard to follow Loki’s thoughts, not when it concerned this. “So we go somewhere else? Where no one knows us?”

“Yes,” Loki said, nodding. “That was my thought. We do not look alike; there would be no cause for stranger to suspect anything.”

The idea was appealing. Thor could see only one real impediment that might stop them.  “Will Father allow it?”

Loki grinned quickly. “I have already spoken to him about it. As there are no pressing matters, and we can easily be called back to Asgard, there is no reason why we cannot go.”

“I see.” He was silent for a moment, thinking. They had left Asgard before, for short journeys or trips, but this would be far different. He would miss his friends and family, yes, but to go somewhere with Loki and not have to hide, to not be afraid that they would slip.... That was an opportunity he could not let pass by. “Where would we go?”

“Midgard.”

Thor’s brows rose. “Among the humans?” he asked, surprised. Loki had long been dismissive of the other race for their backward ways.

“Yes. They have...come far, it seems, in the time since we had last visited. Things on their world are much changed.”

“Truly?” He grinned. For Loki to admit interest in a world he’d once dismissed as a barbaric backwater meant that things had to be very different indeed. “I look forward to it, then.”

Loki hesitated. “I am afraid that things may be rather more different than you’re expecting, and that the restrictions it will place on us you will find burdensome.”

Thor raised a skeptical brow. “Like what?”

“The humans have _changed_ , Thor,” he stressed. “Everything about them has changed. Not just their language—which I know is no obstacle—but their cities, their sciences. _Everything_ , from their religions to their money and food and clothes.” He gestured to both Thor and himself. “We can’t dress this way. You can’t wear your armor or carry Mjolnir.”

Thor dropped a hand down to grasp Mjolnir’s handle reflexively. “I will not leave my hammer behind,” he stated firmly. To go anywhere without it’s protection was unthinkable

Sighing, Loki shook his head. “We can discuss that later. First, I need to explain how the humans live on Midgard, and what we must do in order not to stand out.”

Frowning a bit, Thor nodded shortly. He would trust Loki in this, and then see whether or not the restrictions that would come with living on Midgard were acceptable.

~*~

Over the next few weeks, Loki made several more trips to Midgard. A few of them he made alone, securing a place for them to live, as well as making sure their identities would pass unnoticed. The rest of visits, however, he brought Thor with him. They were practice to get them acclimated to life on Midgard, allowing them to test their new identities and skills. He always chose smaller cities for those trial runs, still big enough to get lost in the crowd, yet small enough not to draw attention for when they invariably erred with something.

Thor both marveled at the changes on Midgard and was repulsed by them. He started in awe at the buildings and edifices the humans had erected, and wrinkled his nose at their cars. “Give me a horse any day,” he muttered.

“They find these more convenient,” Loki shrugged.

“Perhaps, but horses are far more pleasant.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to get used to them,” Loki chuckled, and diverted Thor’s attention by pointing him toward a restaurant. One of the things they’d both rapidly discovered was that Midgard had a dizzying array of foods that they’d never tried before. Pointing Thor in the direction of a new culinary adventure was a good distraction.

They also used the visits for more than learning human culture—it was a chance to adjust to a new style of life. The quality of their lives wouldn’t suffer—the wealth Loki had conjured would see to that—but the way they lived would change. Thor warily eyed the clothing Loki gave them each time they went. There were some styles he found quite comfortable, but they were both dismayed by the quality of the fabrics. Loki was already planning on simply creating his own wardrobe to mimic the humans’ styles, but with much finer cloth, and perhaps to pay a visit to one of the expensive tailors that wealthy humans still used for anything he could not do on his own. He would wait and see if Thor required the same services. His brother was more accustomed to roughing it, after all.

When it came time to actually leave for good, Thor absolutely refused to leave his hammer behind. He accepted leaving behind his armor and clothing, but not his weapon. Loki hadn’t tried too hard to convince him, knowing it was a lost battle. He enchanted it instead, keeping it hidden from sight unless Thor had need of it.

For his part, Loki found the only thing he was truly reluctant to leave behind was Fenrir. The wolf had long been a steady, comforting part of his life, silent and accepting and there when Loki needed to be alone. He supposed he could enchant the way Fenrir looked, masking his form so that the humans wouldn’t see him for what he really was, but it seemed wrong to do the noble beast. He frowned as Fenrir watched him with one lazy golden eye. In all likelihood, the humans wouldn’t even notice, as long as he kept Fenrir on leash. The wolf wouldn’t attack anyone without cause, and if the situation truly became untenable, he could return Fenrir to Asgard.

Finally, there was nothing left to do. He had sent all of the their belongings and Fenrir on ahead, and then he and Thor had bid their parents goodbye, changed into Midgardian clothing, and prepared to leave. In his locked chambers, Loki wove his magic, searching out the pathways, and opened one that would take them to Midgard. In the moment just after he finished casting and before they stepped through, Thor reached out and caught Loki’s hand, giving him such a wide, blinding smile that Loki’s heart tripped momentarily in his chest. He returned the smile, regained his composure, and pulled Thor through with him.

Once they were through, Loki stepped back and watched as Thor got his first look at the new Midgard. He smirked as Thor gawked, gaping at the buildings that stretched into the sky, and the vehicles that roared by, and the press of humanity going about their lives. “Welcome,” Loki said grandly, “to New York.”


	15. Chapter 15

Their first several months on Midgard were spent exploring much of what the realm had to offer, concentrated at first on the city itself. They planned to explore more of the planet in the future, but they both felt getting accustomed to the new world and the culture they would likely be spending the most time in was prudent. They visited museums of kinds, studying the works of art and artifacts and treasures. Loki was impressed at the details and accomplishments of primitive humans, while Thor quietly marveled at the sheer number of cultures and civilizations—long since gone from the face of the world--that Midgard had produced. And it astounded them, both how wildly those cultures and beliefs varied and how similar ideas and themes could be repeated so often, even with vast amounts of time and distance between them.

By unspoken accord, they both avoided anything to do with Norse culture as much as they could.

After they had sated themselves on history, they turned to modern arts and discovered the theater and the opera and the symphony. While they both enjoyed the theater—particularly what humans deemed “the classics” and the works of Shakespeare—Thor found that he loved the opera. The spectacle of the sets, and the costumes, the performances of the actors, the drama of the story, all set to music that played on the emotions of the audience perfectly...there was nothing about it he did not love. Loki, on the other hand, preferred the symphony, to sit back and absorb the beauty and the complexity of the music without anything else to distract him. They went to each often, eventual purchasing luxury boxes for both the comfort and privacy they offered, hands tangled together as they watched.

And that was their favorite thing about Midgard, that they could be together openly and without fear. No one knew who they were or about the illicitness of their relationship, and the few strangers who did speak against them were of no consequence and easily dismissed. Here, Thor thought nothing of reaching for Loki’s hand or wrapping an arm around him, or of Loki leaning over to whisper something in his ear or resting a hand on his thigh. They had a freedom on Midgard they’d would have never been able to have on Asgard, even if they weren’t who they were, and they didn’t hesitate to use it.

Just how obvious they had been was brought to Thor’s attention when he stood waiting for Loki in the lobby of their building. Their building manager, Mr. Nichols, approached, a warm smile on his face. “Good afternoon, Mr. Odinson,” he said when he came close enough, tipping his head to look up at Thor.

“A good day to you as well,” Thor returned.

“Everything is all right with your penthouse, I trust?” he inquired politely.

Thor nodded. “Yes, it’s perfect. You and the others are most thorough in your duties.”

Mr. Nichols grinned. “Excellent. We’re always pleased to hear that. Please let us know if you or your husband need anything.”

Thor blinked at him. “My what?” he asked dumbly.

“Your husband,” Mr. Nichols repeated easily, but then paused when no answer from Thor was forthcoming. His smile faded, becoming unsure. “I...had assumed you were married, given your relationship and the fact that you share the same last name. I’m sorry if I was mistaken. Please-”

“You haven’t erred,” Loki interjected smoothly, coming up behind Thor to stand next to him, laying a hand on his forearm and squeezing gently. “It’s still very new to us, and we’ve not told any of our family and friends yet. They wouldn’t....”

“Approve?” Mr. Nichols finished knowingly. “I understand. I’m sorry for prying.”

“Don’t be.” Loki smiled briefly. “It’s nice to have someone who knows.” He tugged lightly on Thor’s arm. “Come, we don’t want to be late.”

Without a word, Thor followed him out onto the busy sidewalk. The walk to one of their favorite restaurants—small and intensely private—was silent, and Thor didn’t speak until they were seated.

“You knew?” he asked, his voice wrecked.

“I did,” Loki replied, nodding once. “It was one of the reasons for choosing this city, so that our presence and behavior wouldn’t attract undue notice.”

“I see.” Thor stared down at the menu, not seeing it. Loki had known what people would think when they saw them together, and while Thor knew he should have asked or realized it himself, he was hurt that Loki hadn’t said anything, had left Thor in the dark about it. When their waiter came, he remained silent while Loki ordered for both of them.

“You didn’t tell me,” he said softly, once their waiter had departed.

“You know why,” Loki said tightly.

Thor reached across the table to take Loki’s hand in his. “Would you?”

“Would I what?”

“Marry me?”

Loki’s expression became closed enough, though not enough that Thor couldn’t see the irritation. “ _This_ is why I didn’t say anything. You know better than to ask that of me.”

“Why? We live it already. It seems a small step to take.”

Shaking his head, Loki tugged his hand free, folding them on his lap. “You are a fool if you think it would end in anything except disaster. We cannot marry and you know it.”

“But why not?” Thor knew he was pressing, that Loki had his reasons for what he did, and they were usually good reasons, but he didn’t see why they couldn’t have this. “It wouldn’t be considered binding by the laws of Asgard. It wouldn’t be as if we were really—”

“It would be to you!” Loki interrupted, hissing furiously though his voice didn’t travel beyond their table. “It doesn’t matter what Asgard thinks, it would be real to you. And that would ruin us.” He closed his eyes for a long moment, clearly gathering himself while Thor stared at him. When he opened them and spoke again, he was calmer, but no less firm. “We cannot marry,” he repeated, more gently, “no matter how much we each might want to. We are _brothers_ , no matter how we came to be so. I don’t regret that, for otherwise I wouldn’t have had you at all, but it doesn’t change what we are. Someday, we will return to Asgard, you will choose your queen and marry her, and she will give you heirs. I can’t ever be more to you than what I am right now.”

“You’re my heart,” Thor whispered, and hated how close to tears he sounded, how hurt he felt.

Loki closed his eyes again, face pained. “And you are mine. It doesn’t matter. Do not ask me again, Thor.”

The rest of their dinner was silent and miserable. They hardly touched their meals; Thor could barely choke down more than a few mouthfuls of the food that seemed tasteless. While he hadn’t truly believed that Loki would say yes, he hadn’t anticipated Loki’s complete and utter rejection of the idea. It stung, a wound to both his pride and his heart. When the meal was over, they paid quickly and left, returning to their penthouse. Loki immediately shut himself in his study while Thor threw himself down on the couch, mindlessly flipping through the channels in a fruitless bid to distract himself, Fenrir curling up on his feet after scratching softly on the closed study door. Hours passed, until finally Thor turned off the TV and dragged himself to bed. He left his clothes heaped on the floor and slid beneath the cold sheets of their empty bed, unsure of how to make things right.

When he woke in the morning, Loki’s side of the bed was still undisturbed.

~*~

For several days after their... _discussion_ , Loki was careful with Thor. He understood the impetus behind Thor’s question, and he loved that Thor wanted that with him. For him, it was enough to know that Thor would marry him if he could. For Thor, simply wanting wasn’t enough. So Loki needed to find a way to claim Thor, for lack of a better term, to make him understand that there was a bond between them that could never be broken, for all that they could never be together openly at home.

The idea, when it came to him, seemed fitting. In many respects, Midgard was a world obsessed with sex. They exalted it and reviled it by turns, often within the same breath. But Midgardians, for all their inconsistencies, were inventive with it. The sheer number of items available to cater to whatever predilections one might have were staggering. There were many Loki had no desire to dabble in, but some did appeal to him, and he saw a way that he could use them to reaffirm what he and Thor had without risking everything they had.

It was easy to find what he was looking for on the internet, and he paid extra for the expedited shipping. Now all he had to do was wait and then he would see how well it would go over. Since it would be a few days before his purchase arrived, he soothed Thor the best way he had...by blocking out the rest of the world and keeping Thor close. Not just by spending a lot of time in bed—though they did a lot of that—but by eating and shower together, laying entwined on the couch as they watched TV, talking and joking and simply being together, reaffirming that their love and affection for each other hadn’t changed or lessened. It was a different sort of intimacy than just what sex could provide. It reminded Thor that Loki was there and wasn’t going anywhere.

The plain, brown box arrived and Thor looked at it curiously, but Loki didn’t enlighten him. He left the box sealed and resting on the table, until Thor went to work out in the buildings gym. Then he carefully opened the box, unwrapping and inspecting the contents.  The collar, cuffs and straps were all thick black leather, the stitching strong and buckles shiny. They couldn’t really hold Thor, but that wasn’t Loki’s intention. Thor had to be willing to submit, to accept the bonds Loki placed on him. He didn’t think that would be an issue; from the beginning Thor had followed Loki’s directions, submitting himself to Loki’s will eagerly.

He examined the rest of the items with care, checking to make sure that all was in order. The dildos, vibrators and butt plugs were in a variety of shapes, sizes and colors, and while he planned to use them all at some point, he only needed a few for his immediate plans.

Still, he washed them all, and carefully put them away in a drawer in their walk-in closet, leaving the items he wanted in the front.

Thor returned, saw the box was gone and looked curious, but Loki still said nothing. Thor frowned a little bit, but went to shower while Loki decided to start supper.

It took until they were cleaning up the dishes for Thor’s curiosity to get the better of him. “What was in the box?” he asked.

Loki smiled. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would.”

“Go to the bedroom and wait for me,” Loki instructed.

For a brief moment, Thor looked surprised, and then his eyes darkened with heat. They hadn’t played this way since coming to Midgard. Loki usually took Thor unless he was in the mood for something else, but the outright domination, Thor submitting completely and utterly to Loki’s whim wasn’t something they’d done since leaving Asgard. Thor hurried from the kitchen toward the bedroom while Loki finished up.

Once he was done, he waited before joining Thor, wanting the anticipation to heighten what they both were feeling. Loki stood in front of their floor to ceiling windows that allowed them to look over the city. It was like standing on one of the palace balconies, the gleaming light of the city so alike, and yet so different from Asgard. As much as he loved his home, he found this sight the more beautiful because it was here in this human city that he could love Thor openly and without fear.

What he was doing wasn’t just for Thor, it was for him, too. Thor, his brother, lover, best friend and the other half of his soul. Thor, whom he wasn’t supposed to love the way he did, whom he could never truly have the way he wanted.  He wanted to claim Thor, to leave an indelible mark that could never be removed or replaced. He would make Thor _his_ in every way he could.

Finally he turned away from the window and made his way to their bedroom. The door was open and at his approach, Thor looked up. He was seated on the edge of the bed, hands flat on his thighs, and didn’t move otherwise even though Loki could see that he wanted to. He was also hard inside of his jeans, a good sign. Loki stood watching him for a minute, cataloguing the way Thor started to fidget. Then crossed over to stand before Thor, reaching out with one hand to run it through Thor’s hair before cradling the back of his skull.

“Who do you belong to?” he asked.

Thor’s breath caught and he shuddered. “You,” he said.

“And what would you do for me, if I asked you to?”

“Anything,” Thor answered fervently. “Everything. Loki, please—”

“Hush,” Loki said softly and Thor fell silent. They’d both been wanting this, then. Excellent. “You wanted to know what was in the box.” Thor nodded. “In truth, it was things for you. Or rather, things that I want to use on you. I want to show some of them to you, give you the night to think about what I’m going to do to you, and then put them on you tomorrow. Do you like that idea?”

Thor nodded again and Loki chuckled. “Good. I’m going to get them. I want you to take your clothes off and wait for me on the bed.”

He didn’t wait for Thor’s affirmative response, just turned and headed to the closet, removing the items he’d picked out from the drawer. He heard the sounds of Thor doing as he’d been bid, and by the time Loki came back, he was seated up against the headboard, watching for Loki’s return. His brows furrowed as he tried to figure out what Loki held in his hands, understanding dawning on his face as Loki set them on the bedside table. He actually blushed a bit, which was charming, and Loki was pleased to see that he didn’t appear apprehensive at all, only interested.

One by one, Loki handed him each of the items, letting him inspect them for himself while Loki removed his clothes. When he was done, he settled himself next to Thor. He picked up the plug. It was the smallest one he’d order, shiny black, and he could easily wrap his hand around even the widest part. As he’d never used them, he wanted to make sure it was comfortable for Thor to use the way he intended.

“Tomorrow,” he began, holding the plug up, “when we wake up, I’m going to put this in you. You will leave it in for the whole day. If it bothers you too much, you’ll ask me if you can take it out. Understand?”

“Yes, Loki.”

“Good. And then tomorrow night, when you’ve had the whole day to think about it, I’m going to use these.” He picked up the collar and cuffs. “I’m going to show you just where you belong and how no one else will ever make you feel the way I do.” He set the items off to the side and then levered himself over Thor’s thighs and cupped Thor’s jaws in both hands. “I will own you, in every way. You will belong to me and me alone, forever. The only way anyone else will ever be allowed to touch you is because I allow it. Do you understand me?” Loki hadn’t realized how fierce he’d become until Thor clutched at his wrist.

“Yes, I do, I do!”

Loki relaxed his grip, soothing the reddened skin. “Who do you belong to?” he asked softly.

“You.”

“ _Who_ do you belong to?” Loki repeated, emphasizing what he wanted Thor to say.

Thor’s eyes widened as he grasped Loki’s meaning, and his expression, which had already been pleased, became content and utterly relaxed as he took what Loki was offering. “Loki,” he murmured. “I belong to Loki. Always.”

Loki pressed their lips together, claiming Thor’s mouth in a hard kiss. It wasn’t exactly what Thor had wanted, but it was enough. It had to be. Thor pressed back into the kiss, hungry for it, mimicking Loki’s actions, holding him close as if he never wanted to let go.

Impatiently, Loki slid off Thor, gesturing for him to turn over while Loki grabbed the lube, another delightful Midgardian invention he’d come to appreciate. Thor immediately rolled over, tucking his knees under him and raising his hips, keeping his shoulders lowered and his arms folded on the bed. It seemed to be one of his favorite positions and Loki saw no reason to deny him.

At least for tonight.

Loki drizzled lube across his fingers and then tossed the bottle away. They’d had enough sex over the last few days that Thor was still loose and Loki only opened him enough to spread the lube around evenly. Then he spread the rest over his cock, grabbed Thor’s hips, lined up and thrust in.

Thor groaned and shifted. “Do not come,” Loki ordered.

At first, he had thought to fuck Thor hard and fast, but he slowed after the first few thrusts. Instead, he resettled himself. “Up on your elbows,” he said, and when Thor had lifted himself to brace his weight, Loki draped himself over Thor’s back. He slipped both arms around Thor, almost hugging him, one hand playing with Thor’s nipples, the other wrapped loosely around his cock. He stretched to nip at Thor’s ear. “Remember what I said,” he murmured.

Loki rolled his hips, not pulling out so much as driving his cock in a little deeper. It would be a bit harder to come, but Loki didn’t mind, and he wanted to keep Thor full. Thor grunted very softly each time Loki rolled his hips, and when Loki started stroking him every few thrusts, he gasped as well.

Their bedroom was quiet, broken only by Thor’s quiet noises, and Loki thought they needed more of this. Just the two of them moving together, nothing else to intrude and distract them. Thor was tense beneath Loki by the time Loki came, shaking slightly from the effort not to give into the stimulation. Loki pulled out slowly and tapped Thor’s hip to get him to turn over. Once Thor was on his back, Loki moved back and urged Thor to hold his legs apart.

He slipped two fingers into Thor’s hole and the mess he’d left behind. As his fingertips found that spot inside Thor, he slipped his mouth over Thor’s hard cock. Thor cried out at that, squirming as Loki stimulated him in both places. But he followed Loki’s directions and didn’t come, even when he started trembling and thrashing his head and pleading with Loki in a strained, reedy voice. “Please, please, please,” he begged. “Please let me come! Please! I cannot bear it!”

Loki laughed around Thor’s cock, the vibrations making Thor keen. He nearly twisted away from Loki, stilling himself at the last moment. Loki looked up Thor’s body, relishing the sight of him undone, so stimulated and desperate to come that he looked pained. It was a struggle for him, a genuine effort to follow Loki’s command, but he did because Loki had commanded it of him, no matter the cost.

Slowly, Loki pulled off Thor’s cock, slipping his fingers out as he did. He sat back on his heels, waited until Thor looked at him, eyes hazy with need and confusion, and said softly, “Come.”

Thor did, wailing as his cock jumped and spurted, painting his stomach and chest with his seed. He didn’t even move to touch himself, still staying as Loki had positioned him. Loki went a little light-headed at the sight, his own cock hardening again. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Thor come that hard before and he wanted to see it again. Not now, however. Even though it was Thor, he was absolutely wrecked by that orgasm. Still....

Loki reached out and scooped a little more of his come and lube oozing from Thor’s hole. Kneeling up, he fisted his cock hard and fast, coming again in moments, his seed landing and mixing with Thor’s. And Thor still hadn’t moved. Gently, Loki pried his hands off his own thighs and Thor quickly gripped his hands, pulling Loki down on top of him. He wrapped his arms around Loki, holding him tightly. Loki laid his head on Thor’s shoulder and kissed the sweaty skin beneath his lips. And in that one embrace, they said everything they needed to each other.

~*~

The next morning, Thor woke slowly, stretching out contentedly. He heard a soft chuckle and opened his eyes to see Loki standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame, a mug of tea in his hands. Thor smiled sleepily at him and held out a hand. Loki pushed himself upright and came over, but didn’t down, instead remaining standing by the bed. He looked down at Thor, brows raised in anticipation. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already. I would be disappointed,” he drawled.

Thor drew a quick breath, remembering what Loki had told him last night. Loki nodded toward the bathroom. “Go get cleaned up. You can play with yourself if you want, but my order from last night still remains. Don’t come.”

“All right.” Thor sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed and stretched again before standing stang ambling into the bathroom. He took his time in the shower, washing thoroughly and stroking his cock leisurely a few times, though not nearly enough to get himself off. He dried himself quickly and walked back into the bedroom where Loki was waiting.

“On the bed, on your knees,” Loki directed, and Thor knelt on the edge. He heard the quick click of the cap opening on the lube. Loki prepared him gently, making sure there was enough lube and that he was stretched properly. Then he used a little more lube on the plug, set the bottle down, and carefully slipped the plug into Thor’s hole.

It wasn’t very wide, so Thor had no trouble taking it, but it was cool and solid in a way that a cock wasn’t. His hole closed around the narrowed neck of the plug and the flared base would keep it in place. He shivered slightly as Loki patted his hip and urged him to stand. It felt strange. Thor wasn’t used to moving or walking with something still inside him. And while the plug was small, he could already tell that it’s presence was going to be increasing distracting as the day went on.

“Get dressed. Breakfast is almost ready,” Loki told him and left. Thor grinned. Back in Asgard, Loki would never have been this domestic, but he’d taken to it here. When Thor had asked about the change in habits, he’d muttered something it being far different here and told Thor not to push his luck lest Loki stop feeding him. Thor had let the matter drop, but was pleased that Loki enjoyed it so much, both because it make Loki happy and because it kept Thor well fed.

Carefully, Thor selected clothes and got dressed. He was starting to get used to the plug inside him, but it still caught him off guard when he turned or bent and could feel it inside him. Doing things around the penthouse would be fine, but he worried about going out or going to the gym. Perhaps he would just stay in today.

Loki was already seated at the table when Thor joined him, their plates full. Thor sat down, and even as careful as he was, he still started in surprise as it jostled the plug inside him. Loki smiled around a mouthful of crepes. “Something wrong, Thor?” he asked slyly after swallowing.

“No, everything’s fine,” Thor replied, a trifle unsteady. He ignored Loki’s knowing grin and dug into his food, careful to concentrate on it and not on Loki. When they were done, he cleaned up, following the general rule of “Loki cooks, Thor does the dishes” they’d established. Loki remained seated, watching Thor.

“So,” Loki said when the dishwasher had been loaded, “did you have any plans for today?”

“Not really. Why?”

“Oh, I thought that it’s such a lovely day out that we might go for a walk, let Fenrir stretch his legs in the park.”

Thor glared at Loki and the knowing smirk on his face. “You are evil sometimes,” he muttered.

Loki’s smirk only widened. “I know.”

“Yes, fine, let’s go to the park.”

“Good. And we’ll make sure to get back early enough to leave you plenty of time to go to the gym. I believe you mentioned wanting to use the treadmill? Perhaps I’ll join you.”

Thor had said no such thing and they both knew it. Loki was purposely tormenting him, testing him to see if his resolve would waver. Well, he wouldn’t let Loki get to him. If his brother wanted to see Thor’s commitment, then he would show him.

Whistling for Fenrir himself, he grabbed the wolf’s leash and clipped it to his collar. Then he threw Loki a challenging look and headed for the door. Loki’s soft huff of laughter followed him.

~*~

Later that night, sitting on the edge of the bed as patiently as he could, Thor regretted his blasé attitude earlier in the day. Loki had pushed him, aware the whole while of the torment the plug was causing Thor. They’d spent a few hours in the park, playing with Fenrir, had eaten lunch out, and then come back home, where Loki promptly chivvied him to the gym, joining him just to watch Thor suffer. The entire time, the rocking of the plug inside him kept making Thor hard. It had taken all of his willpower not to break down and ask Loki to remove it. But he’d wanted to prove himself, so he hadn’t, and now he was a shivering, eager mess, waiting quietly as Loki fastened each cuff around his wrists and ankles.

They felt good against his skin, surprisingly so, soft but firm. A clear restraint, but one that felt more like it was holding him up, holding him close and secure rather than imprisoning him. On the bed beside him were the straps leading from the bedposts that Loki would use to fasten the cuffs so that he couldn’t move, and Thor looked forward to it with more than a frisson of anticipation.

Then Loki reached for the collar, and Thor eyed it nervously. That, more than anything else, had weighed heavily on his mind all day. The cuffs didn’t bother him, but the thought of a _collar_ , so similar to what Fenrir wore made him uneasy. And as Loki slipped the leather through the metal buckle, Thor suddenly felt like it was already fastened around his neck, his throat closing up tight, too tightly, against the restriction yet to come. Loki came closer, hands reaching up, and Thor’s mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. At the first touch of leather against his flesh, his voice came back to him, enough to choke out a whispered, “ _No_.”

Immediately, Loki froze, green eyes darting up to meet Thor’s. Thor swallowed and took a deep breath. “I can’t,” he said a bit louder. “I’m sorry, Loki, but I can’t! Not that,” he finished, the worry of disappointing Loki a nagging doubt in his mind.

Loki stared at him for a long moment and then set the collar down beside Thor on the bed. He reached out and cupped Thor’s chin in one hand, forcing Thor’s head up all the way up to face his. “Then we won’t use it.”

“I’m sorry,” Thor apologized again, unhappy with himself that he couldn’t do this one small thing.

“Don’t be,” Loki murmured, bending to brush a brief kiss over his mouth.

“I don’t want to disappoint you.” The words were muffled against Loki’s lips.  “I know you want to use it, but I don’t. I’m sorry.”

Loki shook his head. “Enough,” he admonished firmly. “I don’t want to do anything you don’t want to. You know this.”  He pulled back so he could look Thor in the face. “You need not apologize to me for something you don’t want. If it bothered you that much, you should have said something earlier.”

Thor nodded as much as he could with Loki still holding his chin. “I know you wanted to, though. And I thought I could, but when you picked it up….” He shrugged.

There was a tug at one of the cuffs around his wrists. “Shall we take these off?”

Thor shook his head. “No, leave them. I just didn’t want the collar.”

“Are you sure?” Serious green eyes gazed intently into his. “I would not have you do anything you don’t want to.”

“I am sure. It’s just the collar I don’t like.”

“Fair enough.” Loki released Thor’s chin and picked up the collar. “Shall I dispose of it?”

Studying the collar, Thor thought for a long moment. Following Loki’s orders had always felt right, and now that they’d committed to that, he felt at peace with it, secure in his decision. But that didn’t mean he was always going to like what Loki did—his brother had a fondness for making him suffer. However, now that he knew Loki wouldn’t force him to do something he truly hated, would never ask for more than he could give, Thor could let go of his reservations. Perhaps, one day, the collar might not seem so distasteful to him. He shook his head slowly. “No, not yet. I might change my mind someday.”

Loki grinned. “I look forward to that day.” Tilting his head, his eyes narrowed. “Though I wonder, why do you like the rest so much?”

Flushing, Thor looked away. “Isn’t enough that I do?”

Gentle fingers touched beneath his chin, forcing his head up one more. “I would hear exactly what you want from you own lips, Thor,” Loki murmured. “Tell me.”

Licking his lips, Thor felt his heart began to race, began to feel the stirring in his groin that had subsided with his panic. He was eager to explore with Loki, but voicing his wants felt shameful. Patiently, Loki waited, his expectant demeanor giving Thor the courage to find his voice.

“I like the c-cuffs,” Thor said softly. “The leather against my skin, the way it makes me feel.”

“And how does it make you feel?”

“Like I’m not in control,” he muttered in a rush, twisting physically with the shame of those words. He would be a king someday, he should never feel like that. “But only with you, Loki. I like it because it’s you. I like it when you take the choice away from me, when I don’t have to worry, when I can let you think for me and I can just feel.”

For a long moment, Loki was silent, stroking his fingers through Thor’s hair. Then his lips pressed very softly against the top of Thor’s head. “Go on,” he whispered. “What do you want me to do now?”

“The straps,” he managed. “I want you to t-tie me down, so I can’t move. And then take me, take this…this _thing_ out of me because I want _you_ in me.”

“Are you sure?” Loki teased.

“Yes,” Thor almost sobbed. “Please. Please, Loki, it’s all I’ve been able to think about all day.”

“All right then. Lie in the center of the bed.” He did, spreading his arms and legs so Loki could attach the cuffs. Loki paused before he fastened Thor’s last ankle, a considering look on his face as he knelt and looked back over his shoulder at Thor. He trailed his hand up Thor’s leg, from ankle to knee, then twisted to follow the motion up to Thor’s groin. “I wonder...” he mused.

He turned around completely, shuffling up so that he was directly between Thor’s spread thighs. Reaching down, he pressed lightly on the base of the plug, rocking it gently. Even that motion made Thor squirm and he groaned softly. “What if I wanted to keep this in you? Make you wait until I’m done with you. Would you do that for me Thor?”

Thor groaned again and pressed his head back into the pillows. All he wanted was to take the damnable thing out, but...it wasn’t like it was hurting him. He could endure a little longer, surely. Lifting his head, he met Loki’s gaze and nodded. Loki patted his thigh gently and then secured the last cuff, leaving Thor stretched out and vulnerable to whatever he had planned.

Loki slipped off the bed, walking around it to make sure everything was secure. Thor didn’t need to be told that it was up to him not to break the straps of the bed frame. Then Loki stripped off his own clothes, plucked the ever present bottle of lube off the nightstand, and joined Thor on the bed. Thor wasn’t sure what he expected Loki to do—after all, there weren’t very many options given how he was tied down—but it certainly wasn’t for Loki to straddle his waist, slick his fingers up and reach behind himself.

Breathless, Thor watched, unable to do anything, anticipating feeling Loki around him and silently cursing that Loki was taking his time. After last night and today, he was more than eager for it. Finally, Loki tossed the bottle away and moved back, rising up all the way on his knees. “You’re still not allowed to come,” he warned. Thor huffed unhappily, but nodded. “Good.” Loki grasped Thor’s cock—and that felt so good that Thor tried to buck his hips up a little—and slowly slid down on it.

As much as Thor loved the feel of Loki in him, he very much enjoyed when Loki allowed him this. But now, with being bound and tied down to the bed, it was different. Thor tensed against the restraints. It was easy to feel how easily they would snap if he applied his full strength, but they gave the illusion that he could not. He liked the feeling of enforced helplessness, of not being able to just lay there and take was Loki gave him. Tugging on the cuffs again, Thor wondered if Loki could use his magic to create something that even he could not break.

Loki braced his hands on Thor’s stomach and then pushed himself back up until the head of Thor’s cock just caught on the rim of his hole, and then he slid back down. He ground down when he bottomed out and Thor gasped as he felt the movement jostle the plug inside him. Loki’s smile was as slow and wicked as his body, and Thor knew that there would be a lot more of Loki’s toys in his future.

Like last night, Loki moved slowly, and while it was a torment, Thor preferred it. It left no doubt about what Loki was doing; he was claiming Thor, completely. This was different from anything they’d done before. This was Thor giving himself to Loki, promising himself forever to his brother, his best friend, his lover. He was Loki’s, now and forever. No matter who would come after, no one else could touch Thor like this, would be allowed to see this part of him. This was Loki taking ownership of Thor, of committing himself to be what Thor needed, to never leave him even when they could not be together.

Thor felt himself drifting on a wave of utter contentment. He was hyper-aware of Loki over him, of the clench of Loki’s body around his cock, but it didn’t seem to matter. Right now, Thor was exactly where he wanted to be, doing exactly what he wanted to do, and he didn’t want it to ever end or change. Watching Loki chase his own pleasure and being unconcerned with Thor’s, using Thor without any apparent concern for Thor’s opinion on it, was perfect.

“Pleased with yourself?” Loki’s voice interrupted his thoughts and he focused his attention on Loki, aware that he was smiling. Something about his expression caused Loki’s movements to stutter. He just stared at Thor for a long moment, and then shuddered. “You’re too much,” he said huskily. “You’re....” He didn’t finish, just ground down on Thor again. And even though Thor gasped at it, his smile just widened.

Loki did move faster, tightening every time he pushed himself up, his long, black hair falling over his shoulders. He gasped and panted, curling a hand around his cock and stroking himself. He finished with a hot splash of his come across Thor’s chest and then immediately bent forward to kiss Thor. “Now,” he said into Thor’s mouth. “Come now while you’re still inside me.” And Thor did, Loki swallowing his groan as Thor clenched around the hard plug inside him and emptied himself deep into Loki.

Loki pulled himself off slowly and moved away on legs that trembled, returning to clean both of them off. He undid the cuffs and rubbed Thor’s arms and legs and then cleaning up and putting everything away. Thor let him, watching fondly, feeling warm and soft and safe. He pulled Loki against him, cuddled around him and Loki magicked a sheet to cover them. “Love you,” he mumbled, nosing at the soft skin behind Loki’s ear.

He felt Loki inhale, exhale, then inhale again to whisper, “I love you, too.”


End file.
